


Almost

by Pripple



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4164444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pripple/pseuds/Pripple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is sure that Paris has nothing more to give him, so he makes his way back to the house his aunt left him several years ago, in no expectations of any exciment in his life. Then, he meets Enjolras.</p><p>Or</p><p>A loose adaptation and mixture of Ocean's Eleven&Robin Hood with our favorite barricade boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> I'd like to thank samyazaz and captainbuckybarnes (tumblr) for their amazing beta skills. They helped me to improve this chapter a lot.
> 
> I'd also like to add that English is not my navite language, and I'm hoping any mistakes will be welcomed.
> 
> Enjoy the story and thank you for reading. :)

Grantaire wouldn't say that he is a kind of man who's into planes. When travelling, train is his favorite choice. Not just because it's cheaper than any other, but also he is a man who likes to drink, _a lot_. Driving when drunk is something even Grantaire wouldn't consider doing, and throwing up in a bus is always unpleasant. He also likes to have a little space when he is spending hours doing nothing but sitting. Not that he is a tall man, because he is not, but because it's never fun to sit beside a stranger, trying to get your thighs away from each other for hours and getting off the bus with hurting legs. Not to mention he'd probably change a couple busses until he's there. He is certainly not into that.

This is exactly why he is buying a ticket for the night train when he is leaving the city.

Autumn is already leaving them and turning into a grim winter, and Grantaire is well aware of the fact that he will not be able to support himself in the city through the winter. His art course finished two months ago, and staying longer looks pointless when there is absolutely nothing for him in the city. With his landlord looking for excuses to kick him out, and the money on his account getting low every day, it doesn't take him so long to figure out that going back home is the wisest thing he could do at the moment.

_I can focus on my art_ , he tells himself everytime he is in doubt. _There's no one there to disturb me._

He doesn't have much with him, mostly art supplies and a few worn out clothes are all he has, so packing up doesn't take as much time as other things. Like saying goodbye to a few friends, mostly bartenders or a few eager fellows from art course who still want to keep in touch with Grantaire. "You have my number." Grantaire tells them, even though he knows that he will be too lazy to answer to most of them. But he makes sure to get his favorite drinks for the last time before he leaves the city entirely.

It's more crowded than usual in the station when Grantaire arrives. It has been only two days since Les Amis, the anti goverment organisation -more like a group- broke into one of the most important pharmaceutial companies in the country. Now all the stations and airports are crowded with policemen who are looking for them. Grantaire doesn't get the point, he never did; breaking into a few companies and stealing medicine for the people in need won't change anything after all. There are still millions out there who are sick, hungry, and in need of care. But he still supports Les Amis, mostly because he supports anything against the goverment.

Grantaire catches the train minutes before it's leaving, glad that he did because he has no money to spare for another ticket. Getting in is easy, but finding his cabin is another task. In any case, he is just glad at least when he has his room, he is not going to be have to deal with all the people. He can lock himself in with a bottle of gin he stole from one of the bars, and let the uncomfortable train bed give him back aches.

He dreams so.

It takes him seconds to notice the man in the red coat, because hello, who can miss a man like this? Aside from the beautiful blonde locks, claming the man's forehead in a wild way, the coat he's wearing is ridiculously red, he's a spot on right away. But the expression on his face, which is an expression of a man who tries to have a blank one but fails epicly, because a frown of something like worry is flashed on his godlike face. He looks wild, in other words, like a lost animal who tries to find a way to escape from its hunters, glancing to his back in every moment, like trying to make sure no one is following. There is something familiar about this man, like Grantaire met him before but he can't be sure how and where, which is kind of odd, due to the fact that it's a very hard face to forget.

As Grantaire takes his seconds to inspect the godlike pretty boy, a flash of worry and fear takes its place on the man's face when he checks the corridor over his shoulder again. Grantaire follows his gaze, finding two policemen, stepping into the corridor.

Realising what's going on quickly, because, well, he's been there before, definitly, Grantaire doesn't hesitate as he opens the closest door to help him. Their eyes meet quickly, as the pretty boy stares at him, puzzled, but it's not too long before he steps into the room in hurry, probably realising he has no other choice anyway.

Policemen arrive next to Grantaire shortly after.

"He went this way." Grantaire turns around to show them the door between carriages, frowning as he does. "I think he got off the train."

It's almost funny how stupid they are, and Grantaire has to keep his mouth in a tight line, otherwise he is going to ruin it by cracking up.

When the train leaves the station, it seems safe enough for the stranger to leave his hiding corner and Grantaire opens the door.

"They're gone," Grantaire announces, but there is no sight of relief on the man's face.

"Thanks," he says, anyway, and steps outside.

"You certainly picked a wrong colour to wear today." Grantaire leans up against the window, looking at the red coat again with an amused grin on his face. "Red isn't the smartest choice when you are being followed."

"I didn't know I was going to be followed." The expression on his face makes Grantaire wonder as if he just ate something sour. "Why did you help me?"

Grantaire shrugs his shoulder in carelessly, licks his lips.

"Why not? You have a lovely face."

Grantaire can swear that there is a hint of pink on the stranger's cheeks, but it could also be the effect of running.

"That's why you help people to get away from the police?" he scowls. "I can be a murderer."

"I highly doubt it." Grantaire laughs, crossing his arms across his chest, luggage already forgotten on the floor. "As you said, if you'd known you were going to be followed, you wouldn't wear red."

The stranger seems to pick up on what Grantaire means, and gives him a tight smile.

"Where does this train go?"

"I'm starting to think you don't even have a ticket."

"Not really."

A smile dances on Grantaire's lips.

"Looks like it's going to be a long night for you, then," he says, leaning down to collect his luggage again. "Be sure to hide well when they are checking for tickets," he recommends, but from the way the man keeps calm, Grantaire doesn't think it's his first time hiding from the police.

*

The stranger would be forgotten by dinner time if he didn't have such a beautiful face. Almost godlike. No, exactly godlike. Grantaire wonders if he got caught, or managed to stay away from the fuss and hide well. It would be such a pity if he got caught and was forced to go with the stupid policemen.

The dining area is full of people, but there is not much noise so Grantaire doesn't get disturbed easily. He takes his seat and orders the cheapest thing on the menu, watching outside as he waits for it to arrive. It's such a pity that it's getting dark, because the view flies by in blurry dark shapes, not allowing Grantaire to enjoy the beauty of nature, which is one of the reasons why he enjoys train rides better than anything else. The view is always so beautiful, wheter it's a clear day with a bright sun or a grey one with grim clouds, Grantaire always finds it comforting, even inspirational, aside from the pain on his ass because of sitting on it for hours.

He looks up to see the stranger again, walking to Grantaire's table, holding onto a bag Grantaire probably didn't notice before. The way he grips it makes Grantaire wonder if it's anything important, or connected with the curious policemen who were on his tail earlier that day. But Grantaire guesses that they are not on his tail anymore, since he looks more relieved than before, still a hint of seriousness resting on his face though. He doesn't ask Grantaire for permission to sit down.

"I think the dessert arrived before the meal," Grantaire teases, watching the stranger claim the chair opposite to his own.

There is a slight curve of the stranger's lips, clearly amused.

"You can say that."

Grantaire is half surprised and half amused, not expecting the stranger to flirt back.

"I'm glad that you got yourself away from trouble."

"Only for a little while, I suppose."

Grantaire reaches out to offer his hand over the table. "R."

"Nice to meet you."

He doesn't say his name. Grantaire thinks that's understandable since he is running away from the police. It wouldn't be the most clever thing if he shared personal information with strangers. He laughs anyway, when the man shakes his hand, a teasing spark dancing in his eyes. His grip is strong, and Grantaire wonders how strong he could grip under other circumstances.

They fall silent again and Grantaire's food arrives to the table short after. It's nothing fancy, but the smell is more than enough to make Grantaire's stomach growl.

"There's no need," He says when Grantaire asks for another fork but Grantaire waves it off with a gesture of his hand.

"It's been two hours since the train left. Unless you got the chance to grab a lunch when running away from the police," Grantaire keeps his tone low, so no one else is going to hear them, though the pretty boy tenses visibly and eyes the people around them all the same, "I'm pretty sure that you are as hungry as I am."

From the way he remains silent, Grantaire thinks he is indeed hungry enough and not risking staying like that with another argument.

"So, Apollo," Grantaire starts, after the plate between them is empty for a long time. The stranger looks surprised and a little bothered with the nickname, but he doesn't make a comment on it. "How do you plan to spend the night?"

"Hiding in the toilets. It's not like anyone's going to be up during the night. And I suppose they have their own toilets in their cabins."

"Well, yes. But I don't think it's the most comfortable way to spend the night."

"I don't have any other choice." Apollo shrugs. He looks serious, focused, and Grantaire can't help but notice the way he is still clinging onto the bag, still pressed against his chest.

"What's in that?" he questions finally.

"Nothing."

Grantaire grins, leaning his back. "Sure," he says but doesn't press any further. The only answer he needs is if that's why he is hiding from the police, and it apparently is.

Apollo sits with him during the dinner time. They talk about casual things, about traveling and shitty train food, how the weather is, getting colder by the day. They don't speak about personal things but Grantaire keeps flirting with him, because hello, he has eyes and the man is Apollo himself. He has the most beautiful hair Grantaire's ever seen in his whole life, for a start. Beautiful golden locks are dancing on his shoulders, shining perfectly on his red coat, which is still looking ridiculous, but Grantaire likes the contrast it makes with the fair skin of his. His face looks so proportinal that Grantaire wants to scowl, because this is a hard thing to catch even in the paintings, let alone the real human beings. He has the nose of the greek gods from the sculptures and the light blue eyes that makes Grantaire want to hold his gaze for hours, and he doesn't even want to _think_ about that perfect mouth of his, almost sinful where it shapes around the words perfectly clear when the man speaks. Grantaire wants nothing more than curl in a hole and cry over the beautiness of this man, almost feels like he's the only source of light in let alone just the diner of the train, but in whole universe. He's like a god and sun and art itself and Grantaire wants to sell his soul to whatever demon just to be able to stare at him.

Lucky Grantaire, his Apollo is not disturbed by his flirty mood, it seems, and most of the time he pretends like he doesn't get it. Grantaire doesn't give a flying fuck about that since he gets to look at him as much as he wants. However, Apollo looks uncomfortable because of other reasons than flirting, looking over his shoulder constantly to be sure no one is hiding there to come and get him. And Grantaire is not an idiot. He can see this is the only reason Apollo sits with him whole evening, to look casual and not draw attention.

When they are out of casual topics to discuss, Grantaire looks around to find something else to distract himself. Otherwise he would be staring at Apollo without breathing and he doesn't think that's such a nice thing to do anymore since he was doing exactly that for the past hour.

There is a newspaper resting near the table for his luck. Grantaire isn't sure if it's today's newspaper or not, but he reaches for it anyway. Apollo goes tense. Grantaire can see his knuckles turn white as paper as they press into the table. He opens the newspaper anyway.

Apollo is looking back at him.

**_Les Amis continuent_** ** _à jouer au Robin des bois_** , says the main article and there is a picture of men in casual clothes, standing close to each other. Apollo is one of them, listening to other two as he looks at the direction of the camera. Anyone who got close enough to see him could recognize him in an instant.

"Here we are. Now I know what's in that bag. Very top secret files from the mentioned company, fix me if I'm wrong," Grantaire licks his lips in amusement, a grin flashes on his face as he looks up to Apollo, who is as pale as a vampire. "Oh calm down, would you?" He rolls his eyes, standing up. "If I wanted to hand you over I would have done it the first time." He gets upto his feet.

"What are you doing?" Apollo asks, frowning when Grantaire catches his elbow and pulls him up.

"Well I don't think sitting here in red will do you good. You are just lucky that you have a very lovely face and I have a private cabin."

They settle in Grantaire's room before anyone notices Apollo and Grantaire brings the newspaper with them. It's surprising, not just being in his cabin with the leader of Les Amis, but also helping him hide from the police. His plans on being alone with the gin fade away, but Grantaire can't bring himself to care because the red leader has a better effect than any other alcohol in the world.

"Do you always act so thoughtless?" Grantaire asks, and he earns a glare from the other man.

"There was an unplanned complication."

"And you thought it's a good plan to run to a train station in red."

"This was a casual appearance to keep attention away from me."

"Do you know how this attention thing works?"

Apollo rolls his eyes, finally letting go of the bag and putting it down, still close enough so he could grab it if there's something urgent. "Be serious. That's not a game. You're not aware what you are getting yourself into."

"I'd like to describe myself as wild than serious, it gives you chance to do stupid stuff like helping people like you," Grantaire teases. "I'm well aware, thank you."

"If they find out that you are helping Les Amis-"

"I said I'm aware." Grantaire shrugs it off. "You don't have to worry about me Apollo. It's not like I have a lot to lose."

Apollo sighs in frustration and Grantaire sits up.

"Let's start with your name."

"What?"

"I want to at least know who I am helping."

"The more you know, the deeper you are. I think it's better that way."

"Let me decide how deep I want things to be, since I'm the one who's the bottom." Grantaire flashes another grin but all he has in return is a hard glare.

"That's not a game," he repeats.

"What's your name, Apollo?"

"It surely isn't Apollo."

"I wouldn't be surprised if it was," Grantaire mumbles and opens his suitcase, the bottle of gin waiting for him and he doesn't spent much time when he takes it out. "I don't need to know your name to notice you, you know. So there is no harm if you tell me."

This time there is a pause and Grantaire doesn't look up when he opens the bottle and takes a sip.

"Enjolras."

"There is no way I'm gonna pronounce it right so you don't have to worry." Grantaire grimaces. "I don't even know how it's spelled."

"E-N-J-"

"Stop, for god's sake." Grantaire cuts him off, laughing. "I have plenty of time to learn. The night is young."

Enjolras turns around to face with the window, as if he doesn't get what Grantaire implies and watches outside.

Darkness is upon them already. Clouds and the full moon are only thing in the view to be seen. Enjolras doesn't seem to mind it, though, keeping his eyes away from Grantaire. There is not much to do, so Grantaire spreads himself on the seat, close enough to Enjolras but not too much so he is not going to get disturbed. He takes another sip, and watches Enjolras, tries to memorize the lines of his face, and makes a mental note to himself about getting watercolours when he's back to his town.

"May I use your phone?"

Grantaire raises an eyebrow, taking his phone out of his pocket, where it's forgotten, and hands it over. He doesn't have one of those fancy ones. Just a simple mobile to call someone if there's need.

Enjolras doesn't seem to mind that, either, and takes the phone from Grantaire with a nod of his head, as a thank you, Grantaire supposes.

"Comb-" Enjolras cuts himself off and Grantaire isn't sure if that's because he realised Grantaire is in the room, or because there is a loud voice shouting in Enjolras's ear from the other side of the line. "I'm fine," he says, closing his eyes for a second. "On the train- I have no idea. Look, get in contact with everyone, tell them I'm going to be silent for a couple days. I'll ring you back when I have somewhere safe for us to gather."

That's all he says and Grantaire doesn't think he waits long enough to hear the answer, because his phone is on the seat a few seconds later.

"Here, thank you." Enjolras says. Grantaire hands him the bottle.

*

Enjolras seems not to be interested in taking the flirting to another level so Grantaire doesn't push his luck much. He hides in the toilet when someone comes in to open the bed, and Grantaire doesn't call him back until he locks the door and opens the bed above his own.

The sun rises when Grantaire finally falls asleep, and he is sure it's not a peaceful one. He can hear Enjolras's breathing. The night is silent except the noises train makes when it slides on the railway. They finished the half of the bottle together- well, Enjolras only took a few sips but that counts too, Grantaire thinks- and then went to their beds, remaining silent for the rest of the night. Enjolras is not going to sleep, and Grantaire knows that. Of course the man didn't trust him right away, even if Grantaire did nothing but help him all day. He could still see the doubt in Enjolras's eyes, not sure why Grantaire is helping him, but they both know that's the only way Enjolras is going to get away with everything.

Waking up is not better than falling asleep, either. He is both sleepy and awake and that tires him worse because he has another hour in the train and he's not interested in breakfast.

"You look terrible," Grantaire tells Enjolras when he climbs down, even if that's a lie because he doesn't think looking terrible is an option when you have a face like that.

"My look is not my highest concern at the moment."

Grantaire rolls his eyes. Because of course, the red leader has to be serious about this like everything else.

"You need some sleep. We have another hour before we arrive."

"I'd like to spend that time with planning my next move."

"Yeah, like you didn't do that all night. You were thinking so hard I practically heard the noises of your brain."

This time it's Enjolras's turn to roll his eyes. "What I do is not as simple as you imagine."

"Who says I imagine it's simple?" Grantaire asks. "I didn't spend my night imagining what your work is, unlike you, because that's hardly my concern when there is a demi god sleeping above me."

Enjolras doesn't roll his eyes again but there is no need for that because Grantaire can see it in his face. Not that he cares about it. Teasing and flirting is one of the best things he can do besides drinking.

He doesn't push further, though, collecting his belongings back inside of his suitcase. After a pause, he pulls out a dark green sweatshirt. Enjolras is much taller than him, but he is also thinner and this sweatshirt is baggy on Grantaire anyway. It wouldn't be a problem for Enjolras to fit in it.

"Take your clothes off," he says, turning to Enjolras when he comes out of the toilet, a complete shock on his face like someone said something terribly rude.

"Excuse me?" He clears his throat, expression melting into his frown.

"Not for what you imagine, Apollo." Grantaire flashes a grin and yes, finally he sees the colour of Enjolras's cheeks turning red as a wink follows his grin. "You are drawing enough attention with that coat anyway. You won't be hiding for so long if you keep wearing that and it's more safer if you change your look so they can't track you."

Now Enjolras looks confused, just for a slight moment. It's like he didn't expect Grantaire to be clever.

"Yes, I can be serious and make plans. Now, come on." Grantaire rolls his eyes.

Enjolras huffs and tugs at his coat, shrugging it off. Grantaire doesn't even try not to look, because he knows that he is going to fail, big time. So instead he leans against the door and simply watches.

This time Enjolras doesn't blush when he takes his white jumper off after the coat, and places it neatly on top of the coat. He turns around to face Grantaire, who is still staring at Enjolras, because there is no way he can move, hell, he's not even sure that he breathes at the very moment.

Enjolras isn't heavily-muscled. But he is in good shape and has enough muscle to show that he is not at all a weak man. He has the kind of muscles that show themselves when he is moving, instead of staying there all the time and cut his body into parts. His skin is milky white, dusted with freckles lightly on his shoulders and collarbones, which Grantaire would be very pleased to count, with his tongue if possible, thank you very much.

Even if it's terribly hard, Grantaire still manages to tear his eyes away from the man and hands the sweatshirt over. This time he is the one who's blushing when their fingers brush against each other. There is a slight frown on Enjolras's face, he looks focused on the task he has, looks cold and steady, and Grantaire curses himself in his head, because, really, who finds being as cold as a stone this attractive?

"So," Grantaire dares to speak after Enjolras is cozy in his sweater, beds are back to their places and they share the seat again like last night. It's only a couple minutes before they arrive to the station. "Could you figure out what's your next move is?"

Enjolras grimaces. "I need to find somewhere to stay. A hotel, maybe. Are you from this town?"

"Yes." Grantaire leans back. "But I don't recommend the hotel we have."

"My comfort isn't-"

"I know it's not your concern," he cuts Enjolras off. "That's not what I mean. It's a small town with familiar faces. You'll be recognized easily."

Enjolras frowns, looking out of the window. Grantaire can swear that he hears the noises of his brain.

"You can stay at my place," he is not sure when he decided that was such a good idea, but here they are.

Grantaire knows his town, the people who live there, knows how much of a gossip it would be if a stranger- strangers, it seems by the phone call Enjolras made last night- rented a room in winter season when there is nothing interesting in the town. The house his aunt left him is big enough, has four rooms and a basement, in case anyone would need to hide. It's not in the town center, but a little closer to the forest, so sneaking out of the garden and running away wouldn't be such a problem. He has no idea why he is thinking all this stuff for a man whom he just met. It smells like trouble from head to toe, but it's not like Grantaire is going to let the police get Les Amis when they are the kind of people who care.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Enjolras says.

"Of course you don't." Grantaire grins. "But that's the best option you have."

"Not really."

"Oh come on, Apollo-"

"It's not at all wise to trust someone who doesn't take anything seriously," he snaps.

"I don't have to look like a statue to show that I'm serious, unlike you," Grantaire snaps back. "I'm just trying to help."

" _Why_?"

"Why do you help people?" he asks, and Enjolras doesn't have enough time to keep his face like a stone this time. He's surprised. "Why do you do the right thing and help people, even if they are not going to care about you if you get captured by police? Why do you try to bring justice when it's obvious this is impossible because everyone loves money too much and they will never give it up for just doing the right thing?" Enjolras remains silent, and Grantaire continues. "The truth is, I think Les Amis are a bunch of naive men who think they are going to change the world. I don't think you will. I think what you do is stupid because even you know you are only trying. But that doesn't mean I will close my eyes and let the system swallow you in just because you are trying to do the right thing. That's why I want to help. The offer stands, take it or leave it."

He stands up before Enjolras speaks, going to the toilet and closes the door behind him. The speech left his face red and his eyes furious. It can't be too hard to accept help, after all. And he knows that he is just being over dramatic about this, but Enjolras is one of the hardest people he'd met in the past couple years. It's obvious by the fact that he doesn't even have to know everything about this man to say something like that.

When he gets out of the toilet, his curls are wet and brushed backwards. He finds Enjolras frowning at the door and stops himself before laughing. He pities the door.

He knows that he was hard on Enjolras. And not in the way he'd like to be. He insulted everything Apollo believes in, and he doesn't even have right to do that because he barely knows the man.

"I will take the offer." Enjolras says, when Grantaire draws a breathe in to apologise. "But only for a few days."

Grantaire is surprised but he doesn't make any comments. The air stays tense and heavy between them as he offers Enjolras to put his clothes and the bag in Grantaire's suitcase instead carrying them around. Enjolras accepts that offer, too, but only if he carries it. "If you like to carry heavy stuff," Grantaire says instead of ' _I'm not going to run away with your stuff god dammit'._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An expected guest. Also, haircut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me ages to post this, but here it is. 
> 
> Also, thanks to my beta once again.

They leave the train station without getting noticed. Enjolras is as tense as Grantaire beside him as they walk but neither of them says anything. Grantaire is leading them home.

The walk home is also silent. Enjolras carries the luggage they have and Grantaire keeps his eyes on the road or their surroundings, taking everything in. If he says that he didn't miss this after the chaos of the city, he is lying. His hometown is near the sea, and summers are always fun because there is a lot of people from the city in the summer to cool themselves in the sea or to enjoy the fair. It's full of people and laughter, and Grantaire finds too many things to get lost in.

Winters, on the other hand, are nothing like it. The sea is too cold to swim in, the fair is gone, and people have returned to their jobs in the city. The rest of the people are who live in town full time, and they are not much. Grantaire is not dependant on people, he never has been. He enjoys being alone most of the time, but it's not always like that. Once he loses his inspiration, he is bored, looking for a distraction.

"Here we are," Grantaire says, when they finally reach his house. It looks terrible, Grantaire knows it. There is a stubborn ivy climbing up the house, and the garden looks shit, covered with wild and dead plants. It simply looks abandoned. "It's nothing fancy."

Enjolras gives him a look, repeating that he doesn't give a shit about comfort or the appearance, and Grantaire rolls his eyes. It's like nothing bothers Enjolras. Even though they had a sleepless night and all of their muscles are sore because of being in one small room for hours, he didn't complain once as they walked to the house, and he refused every offer Grantaire made to carry the luggage for the rest of the road.

"It's enough," Enjolras says.

Grantaire crosses the garden and makes his way to the door. There is a pot next to it and a key under, so he collects it. He knows that is probably not the best way to keep the house safe, but it's not like there is something valuable inside.

"I don't know if I still have hot water." They make their way in and shut the door behind them. Enjolras makes sure it's locked. "I'll check, we can have a shower."

Enjolras looks up to Grantaire and says, "Do you mind if I use your mobile again?"

He is really close to rolling his eyes, but he hands it over anyway and leaves Enjolras to be.

Enjolras's voice doesn't reach upstairs as Grantaire unpacks his suitcase-after Enjolras takes his bag out, of course- in his room. He has the same room he had when he was a kid and never changed it when his aunt passed away. So it doesn't have the best view, nor it is the biggest, but Grantaire doesn't care as long as he has a roof above his head and doesn't have to deal with landlords.

Everywhere is dusty, untouched, and smells like old stuff, and Grantaire hates it. He knows that he has to clean here sooner or later- not just his room- but he is still tired from the road, and Enjolras is still here. He decides to leave the cleaning until after all the fuss about _Les Amis_ is over.

He is grateful that he did laundry before he left the city, because that means he has clean clothes and he can shower right away. And it must be his lucky day because he still has hot water. He doesn't spend time by announcing this to Enjolras, knowing that he wouldn't probably care about it, and strips his clothes.

It feels so good. Grantaire groans and closes his eyes under the hot water, letting the water pour all over him and burn him. Every muscle in his body is grateful, and Grantaire spends nearly an hour in the shower before he decides it's enough and comes out, his fingers and toes are wrinkled.

"Are you hungry?"

Grantaire finds the red leader in the living room, sitting on the dusty couch with a serious look on his face, glaring at the carpet. He jerks away from his thoughts when Grantaire speaks, and looks up to him.

"Yes," He admits and points at the mobile phone. "I'm done, thank you."

"No problem," Grantaire says. "I don't think I have anything to cook. Is pizza okay?"

Enjolras shrugs. Even if it's morning and pizza for breakfast isn't the best thing in the world.

Grantaire convinces Enjolras to use the shower and gives him clean towels and some of his clothes, then calls to order pizza. It's really hard not to think about the fact that Enjolras is naked in his bathroom, standing where Grantaire stood just minutes ago. He doesn't have time to think about this, because he knows if he starts to think about it then he has to create some time for something else, and there is so little time before Enjolras will be done with the shower.

However, his plans fail when he goes upstairs to spare a bedroom for Enjolras.

Standing in the hall with his clothes and the bag on his hands, Enjolras looks like he is trying to decide something, Grantaire draws a sharp breath as he notices Enjolras is only wearing the towel Grantaire gave him, loosely around his waist.

"I was just coming up to show you your room. I think I have the best timing." Grantaire flashes a grin and walks closer to Enjolras, who just looks amused around the edges of his mouth but the rest of his face is blank as always. Grantaire opens the door of the biggest room he has in the house. It's the room which faces the front, and has the better view. "Here. I don't think it's so clean, but a little dust won't kill you."

"It's okay," Enjolras says. It takes Grantaire a minute to realise that he is still staring at Enjolras, who is simply waiting for Grantaire to be finished and leave him alone.

"Sorry." He says, even though they both know that he is not at all sorry

Enjolras still waits, eyes on Grantaire with an expression like steel.

Soon, Grantaire leaves him to be. Not because he is ashamed, because if he keeps staring at the man it won't take him long to be _ashamed_.

Pizza gathers them together at the kitchen table, and Grantaire finds coffee in one of the closets. Neither of them mentions that the coffee is old and bad. It leaves a dry tickle in Grantaire's throat, like he wants to cough but can't for some reason.

"What's the plan?" Grantaire asks, biting into his slice.

"I need somewhere to stay," Enjolras says, his curls are damp around his forehead. "That's my biggest concern until I find somewhere to stay."

"You already have somewhere to stay," Grantaire argues.

"No. I don't mean for a couple days. I need to find somewhere that we can use as our base. Everyone needs to hide until the goverment is focused on something else than us."

"Then call them here."

"Do you know how many people we have in _Les Amis_?" He rolls his eyes.

"I don't think anyone knows that, Apollo."

Enjolras shots him a glare, but Grantaire doesn't care. "Eight," He states. "Nine, with me. Since you are already here, it's ten. Just imagine ten people in this house."

"You won't be able to find anywhere bigger than this anyway. Unless you want to separate."

"That's not an option. It would be too suspicious."

"So what's the problem?"

Enjolras glares at him, looking frustrated as he drops his second slice on the table again and takes his cup instead. "I can't risk you knowing too much about _Les Amis._ It's already too dangerous that you know about me." He stops Grantaire's protest even before he starts. "I'm not saying you're going to hand me over. Though, you can't blame me, because I'm not entirely sure about that."

" _For god's sake!_ "

"Police may question you, R, and I'm not taking any risks."

"They can't question me if they can't find me." Grantaire frownes, biting into his pizza furiously. "I can hide with you."

Enjolras snorts. "You want to be part of _Les Amis_?"

"Why not?"

His eyes grow cold as Enjolras sits up, a frown settles in on his face. "This is-"

" _Not a game_ , I know." Grantaire rolls his eyes.

"No, listen to me." Enjolras sounds serious and angry, and that's what keeps Grantaire's attention on him. "This is not a game. What we do. We risk our lives and the lives of our loved ones." He explains, though his voice is not any softer. "We take this risk because we believe in something and we fight for it. There is no reason for you to take this risk while you don't believe what we believe. You are quite the opposite, in fact."

"But I want to help."

"There is no help with _Les Amis_. Either you are in-"

"Giving you a place to stay is not as bad as you think, Enjolras." Grantaire sighs. "It won't ruin my life. The worst thing is getting caught and what, do you think I can't get away with this? It's easy, I only need to find a good lawyer." He doesn't have enough money to do that, but it's better if he keeps that to himself. "I have a basement you can use as your meeting place, enough room for ten people. Most importantly, I know this town. I know how you can run away and where you can hide. I know who you should avoid or what kind of story you should make up to blend in. Let me help, Enjolras."

Enjolras sighs and closes his eyes for a second as if he tries to make Grantaire disappear so his problems would be solved. "I'll consider it." He says, at last.

Grantaire isn't sure if he says that just to get away from the argument or if he means it, but asking would only make it worse, and Grantaire doesn't want to push his luck.

He only has enough energy to eat two more slices and change the sheets of their bed before he falls into his own. It's been a long day and night, and Grantaire doesn't want anything else than sleep it off. He's not sure if Enjolras is going to do the same, but the room Grantaire gave him waits ready for him in any case.

*

Grantaire wakes up in darkness, groaning at the headache he has and cursing himself for not turning the heat on before he went to bed. He is curled up on one side, hugging the covers tight and shivering when he realises he is not even wearing socks.

It's raining furiously and Grantaire blinks with the flash of lightning when he gets up, frowning at the window for a moment before he closes the curtains. He likes the rain when he doesn't have a headache, even likes the lightning. But with this headache and cold, he hates pretty much everything.

It doesn't surprise him when he makes his way downstairs and finds Enjolras sitting in the living room. He uses the notebook Grantaire always has on the table. It looks like he is making a list.

"Did you even sleep?" Grantaire asks, going to the kitchen without waiting for an answer. Leftovers from the morning wait for him in the fridge, and he collects the slices before he goes back to the living room, sitting across Enjolras.

"I will," Enjolras says when he is back. He looks up from the paper and watches Grantaire eat the cold pizza. "If I slept in the morning I'd wake up now like you and be sleepless during the night. It's not going to help much."

"Who says I'm not going back to sleep after pizza?" Grantaire raises an eyebrow. "I'm still tired."

Enjolras draws his attention back to his list, and Grantaire gets up once again to turn the heat on.

"I used your phone. Several times," Enjolras informs him. "I will pay for it when I get some money."

"It's okay." Grantaire waves it off. He knows contacting _Les Amis_ is one of Enjolras's priorities right now, since he's the leader. "I don't have many people to call me." Nothing would be more true.

Enjolras doesn't comment, just nods and continues writing.

"Do you want a drink?" Grantaire watches him.

"No, I need to be focused."

It seems like sleeplessness doesn't have an effect on Enjolras. Or the red leader tries to make it look like that because Grantaire could see the dark circles flashing on his white skin under his bloodshot eyes. He is not at all focused, pausing every now and then and squeezing his eyes.

"You know no one is going to blame you if you sleep now and wake up in the afternoon."

"There is work that needs to be done."

"What, making lists? I'm sure one of eight people knows how to make a list, Enjolras."

"I'm the leader."

"You'll be no use if you waste yourself like this."

Grantaire isn't sure why Enjolras listens him, in fact surprised, when he drops the pen on the notebook and leans back.

"Do you have a laptop?" He asks. Grantaire rolls his eyes.

"Yes."

"May I?"

"In the morning, yes of course. But if you say that helping you is enough trouble, just imagine what would happen to me if they found the leader of _Les Amis_ dead in my house."

Enjolras drops his hands away from his face to glare at Grantaire.

"I've been in worse situations."

"The sooner you get your sleep, the sooner you will be able to think properly and decide your next move." Grantaire shrugs. "Just get some sleep, I'm not going to call the police when you are sleeping, you don't need to be so alarmed.        "

The doubt in Enjolras's eyes is enough to piss Grantaire off, but he somehow tries to keep his temper down.

"Why don't you call one of your friends here?"

"My mind is not made up-"

"I know." He waves it away. "Just one. So you can sleep when he is awake."

"I'm not going to risk any of my friends just to get some _sleep_."

But it doesn't take Grantaire long to convice Enjolras to go to sleep. There is a lock in the room so Enjolras locks himself in with his bag and the notebook, and Grantaire isn't sure if he is truely going to sleep or work, but after being this tired he doubts that it'll take him long to give in and crawl into bed.

For the next two days, they manage to find a routine. Enjolras borrows Grantaire's laptop the next day they arrived and doesn't give it back again. He mostly works in the room Grantaire gave him, making Skype calls and frustrated sounds, but Grantaire doesn't dare to listen. He busies himself with other things, such as collecting his art supplies in his room or shopping for groceries. He tries to make his room and the kitchen as liveable as possible.

They don't talk much with Enjolras, mostly because the red leader is so busy scowling at different members of _Les Amis_ on Skype. Grantaire doesn't ask him if he made up his mind about staying here, because the voice in his head whispers that's the matter he is trying to figure out with the rest of _Les Amis_.

He doesn't eat much, Grantaire notes. He barely sleeps and drinks too many cups of coffee. Grantaire gives him new clothes every morning because Enjolras showers in the mornings. He wears whatever Grantaire offers without questioning or complaining. Grantaire's clothing is nothing fancy, just baggy sweatshirts, jumpers, ripped jeans. But the clothes are just fine since Enjolras is taller than Grantaire and Grantaire's actual size wouldn't fit him anyway.

"Combeferre is coming."

It's almost midnight, and Enjolras is typing angrily on the laptop while Grantaire sits near the window, doodling about unimportant things, little details. Enjolras is a distraction for him. He can't draw anything without realising that he adds a detail about Apollo, and he doesn't want to draw Enjolras without watercolours because he knows that he won't feel satisfied.

"Who?" Grantaire looks up to notice that Enjolras stopped typing a while ago, simply watching Grantaire. _Well that's a first_ , he thinks.

"Combeferre. Another _Ami_."

"I didn't think you'd give up this easy, Apollo." Grantaire can't help himself, because the expression on Enjolras's face when he teases is adorable. It's like a cat trying to decide wheter it wants to tear the meat apart or play with it. "You're surprising me."

"My mind is not made up." He informs Grantaire, eyes lingering on the bottle when Grantaire takes a sip from the wine. He looks disapproving but doesn't comment on it. "Combeferre is coming for that."

"To help you make your mind up?"

"I guess I need another option," he drawls and Grantaire laughs, because it can't be more obvious that this Combeferre is making Enjolras do this. "I'm going to pick him up from the station in the morning."

They decide to cut Enjolras's hair. Enjolras isn't entirely happy about this, nor is Grantaire, but they both know that it has to be done. Everyone knows Enjolras with his long blond hair, pouring onto his shoulders. It will be safer if he doesn't walk around like that. Grantaire thinks it's a shame to cut it because he didn't get the chance to paint him like this yet, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Enjolras is tense when he sits down in front of Grantaire in the bathroom. It's quite obvious that the red leader is tense from the way he sits, but Grantaire thinks it also might be the cold because he doesn't wear any jumpers. His freckles look even more attractive this close, and Grantaire is glad that he already got some alcohol into his system, because this is not something he can handle when he is sober.

His attraction to Enjolras is growing day by day, even if Grantaire refuses to admit it to himself. He wakes up with the result of this attraction every morning and pretends like he doesn't think about Enjolras when he takes care of himself. What he doesn't refuse, though, he's letting himself look. His eyes linger on the man when he is sure that the other is lost in work. Flirting and teasing stays, because Grantaire finds it hard to speak with Enjolras when he's serious. And being serious is not the best thing Grantaire does, to be fair.

It's the first time he has touched Enjolras since the train when he rests his hands over Enjolras' shoulders. He feels the other getting more tense with the connection, but the touch is just to fix Enjolras's position.

"Have you done this before?" Enjolras asks.

"I worked in a hair dresser when I was in highschool." Grantaire shrugs.

"Don't make it too short." Enjolras frowns at Grantaire's reflection in the mirror.

Grantaire rolls his eyes.

"Don't worry, Apollo, I know what I'm doing."

"You had a couple drinks."

"A couple, as you say." Grantaire ignores the fact that Enjolras knows how many drinks he had. "Not enough to make me drunk. I'm an experienced alcoholic."

"It's nothing to be proud about."

"Whatever you say, Apollo."

He wets the hair and combs it, tries not to look at the mirror because he is well aware that Enjolras is watching- _glaring_ at his reflection.

"So who is that Combeferre? A friend?" He tries to break the tension.

"Everyone in Les Amis is my friend."

"Some of them are closer than others, I suppose." Grantaire tries again.

There is a pause when he starts to cut Enjolras's hair, but soon enough he hears Enjolras talking again.

"Combeferre is from highschool."

"Really?" Grantaire frowns. "So you are a group of highschool kids who decided to start attacking the goverment." There is a tease in his voice and for a second he thinks that Enjolras is going to snap, but he doesn't.

"You can say that," is all he says.

Grantaire makes it quick but careful. When he is done with Enjolras's hair, now coming just below his ears, he takes a towel and cleans the hair from his shoulders, his look is fixed on Enjolras as he does so.

"Pleased?"

Enjolras looks at the floor for a second and huffs, sliding away from Grantaire's touch. "It's decent. Thanks." He collects the jumper again as he stands up, leaving the room.

"No problem." Grantaire sighs after him.

*

Grantaire isn't sure what he expects when he opens the door, but this is nothing like it. He carries two luggages and one small backpack, which explains the grumpy look on Enjolras's face because they all know this is too much for a _'Let's decide what we are gonna do'_ talk. He obviously packed for staying longer, and Grantaire doesn't have any complaints about that. The guy is nice. After meeting Enjolras, it's hard to believe that not all _Amis_ are like him.

Grantaire invites him in and closes the door behind them, leaving the locking part to Enjolras as he walks by him and helps Combeferre with the luggage. Enjolras joins them short after when they are shaking hands in the living room.

"You must be tired," Grantaire says, feeling Enjolras's eyes on him.

"We'd like to speak first."

"I'm sure it can wait, Apollo."

"Apollo?" Combeferre looks amused, but Enjolras grimaces.

"A silly nickname he likes to call me by."

Grantaire grins, proud. "I will cook breakfast," he says before Enjolras objects and disappears in the kitchen.

The sounds Grantaire makes when cooking blocks their low murmur. They stay in the living room the whole time, and Grantaire can't help but wonder how close they are, because he never hears Enjolras growl.

Living alone brings a few skills with itself, and one of them is learning how to cook. Grantaire never had enough money, so eating outside all the time is not his first choice when it comes to food. He is not the best at it, but no one seems like complaining when Grantaire cooks for them, and no one has been poisoned yet so he thinks that counts as being good.

"I hope you both like omelettes," he says when he hears someone walking inside, pouring coffee in their cups.

"I don't think Combeferre is going to complain."

Grantaire looks over his shoulder, finding Enjolras leaning against the door, watching him. A teasing smile appears on his face. "Are you checking me out, Apollo?" It surprises Grantaire to see slight curve of Enjolras's lips.

"Combeferre thinks my haircut is really good."

"Because it is." Grantaire grins and places their cups on the table. Grantaire can't decide which look he prefers on Enjolras, because both look so damn good. He's sure that looking good in every situation is illegal somewhere around the world. "Where is he?"

"Showering."

"So he is not as stubborn as you about being human." He hears Enjolras huff, but doesn't turn around as he makes another pot of coffee. If Combeferre is addicted to coffee as much as Enjolras, or even half as much, there is no way one pot will be enough for three of them.

"That's what I mean when I say you are not serious."

"Oh I am, very serious, when it's you who's showering."

"R." Enjolras sighs. "You are not helping about deciding whetever we should or not stay here."

Grantaire sighs, finishing with the pot and taking his seat on the table. It feels different now, knowing that another person is in the house and they are not alone but he can't be sure if he's pleased by the fact or bothered. "I believe I helped enough." He throws one of his legs over another and stares at Enjolras.

"I didn't mean it that way."

"What do you expect, Apollo?No strangers trust each other in two days."

"That's what I'm trying to say."

"Well if you already know that, what are you expecting me to do, really? Two days or not, I'm the best you have at the moment."

Enjolras looks angry, ready to snap.He is interrupted by Combeferre, who walks into the kitchen, fresh from the shower and obviously heard their little argument.

"Bless you, R, I'm starving."

Combeferre sits next to Grantaire with ease and accepts the omelettes Grantaire shoves into his plate. There is no choice but follow him, Enjolras awkwardly sits opposite to Grantaire, glaring at his plate instead of him.

Breakfast slides away quickly as there is still organisation Grantaire should do with his art supplies, and Enjolras looks like he can't spend one extra second on anything else than work, like being human. Combeferre is nice enough to offer doing the dishes, and Grantaire doesn't argue because it's obvious that he is offering this to dismiss Grantaire kindly, so Grantaire leaves them alone.

Enjolras is not talking in a low tone this time, unlike the first morning they spent together. He is arguing with Combeferre but from the way Grantaire doesn't hear Combeferre's replies, he thinks it's only Enjolras who is angry. He's not at all surprised by the fact. It doesn't bother him, somehow. Grantaire finds himself amused as he moves around his room, listening Enjolras hiss at Combeferre.

It turns out one of the suitcases Combeferre carried here from the city is full of electronic stuff. Enjolras looks delighted now since he works on his own laptop. Grantaire's old one is forgotten on the coffee table. Although Combeferre is different than Enjolras, their common obsession makes itself clear when they get into work together, their argument is put away for the moment, and Grantaire can't help but wonder the conclusion. He is not as bad as Enjolras, Grantaire notes, but he still loses himself in work for the day. Little differences shows themselves when Combeferre takes breaks for lunch or another cup of coffee, or even to come upstairs and chat with Grantaire for a while. Enjolras stays where he is and types away all the same.

"R." Grantaire doesn't realise until there is someone on his bedroom door until Combeferre speaks his name. He gives Grantaire a smile when he looks up, invites himself in. "Are you busy?"

If staring at the blank canvas for hours counts as being busy, sure, Grantaire is the busiest person in the world. He fights the urge to roll his eyes and shakes his head. "Not at all," he says, frustrated because he can't start painting and it makes him ache.

"How's the painting going?" Combeferre asks, which earns a raised eyebrow from Grantaire, because hello, he's sure Combeferre isn't in his room to talk about Grantaire's stupid paintings.

"It's not," he answers bitterly and sighs. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"I wanted to talk about the offer you made to Enjolras," he says,accepts Grantaire's invitation - which is basically waving his hand toward the bed - and sits down. "About us staying here."

"Enjolras isn't so enthusiastic about accepting it," Grantaire drawls.

He's surprised when Combeferre gives him an understanding smile. "Enjolras is not enthusiastic about many things, I suppose. Trusting people easily is not on the list, unfortunately."

"It's understandable," Grantaire says, watching Combeferre. "But it's not like he has many choices if he wants to hide in this town."

"We don't, really, have many choices." Combeferre takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. "I was searching for places to stay all morning. Prices go crazy when it's summer time, and I don't know who's willing to give a house to ten men."

"Exactly. You wouldn't be able to cover yourselves very well if you decide to stay in one place."

Combeferre puts his glasses back to their places. "If I have to be clear," he starts and Grantaire is not at all surprised, Combeferre looks like a direct person. "I have the same doubts as Enjolras. He's more tense on the matter than I am, because he thinks it's his duty to keep everyone safe." He rolls his eyes and there is another smile from Combeferre. "I can't say that's completely wrong, but looks like we don't have any other choice. If everyone decides to take your offer, there is not much Enjolras can do."

"Good to know," Grantaire teases.

Combeferre pulls himself onto his feet and looks at Grantaire with a serious face. "Also, thank you. For helping Enjolras out when he needed it. I know he is too stubborn to say but I know he is grateful." Grantaire nods, still watching Combeferre. "I'll let you know when we decide."

He leaves the room and closes the door behind him, and Grantaire finds himself frowning at the canvas once again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire meets with Les Amis and finds out they're not as bad as he imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, I hope you enjoy this chapter. :) The next one will be up around 28th of August.
> 
> I'd like to thank my beta again, captainbuckybarnes (tumblr) for her amazing skills.

Combeferre informs Grantaire that he started to buy tickets for _Les Amis_ short after their little talk in his room. They decide to do it slowly, so no one is going to suspect anything. They will arrive either too early for anyone to be awake or late at night, when no one is around. It sounds like a good plan. Even though Enjolras' frown gets deeper when he listens to them, he doesn't make a comment.

Grantaire spends the next day figuring out how they are going to fit everyone in the house. Enjolras says his room is bigger than others, so he has no complains about sharing it with Combeferre. Since comfort isn't their first concern, as Enjolras always reminds Grantaire, and they already live with roommates in their usual house, Grantaire decides it's not going to be a problem to give everyone a few roommates.

"We don't actually live together all the time." Combeferre informs him. "Enjolras has a big house with lots of rooms, and if there's something to be planned, we stay over."

Joly and Bossuet are the first ones to arrive. Grantaire likes them instantly, because unlike Enjolras and Combeferre, they are not so eager to start working on their first night.

"Give us a break," says one of them, the light-skinned and black-haired one, Joly, if Grantaire isn't terribly wrong. "It was a very long journey, and I'd like to spend the night drinking, not damaging my eyes in front of electronics."

Enjolras looks displeased, but he leaves them alone. Grantaire joins them in the kitchen and offers them wine, which they both accept happily.

"R, right?" Bossuet says, smiling at him as he sips the wine. "Nice to meet you, finally. We were all relieved when we heard from Enjolras about how you helped him."

"It was a terrible day."Joly leans against Bossuet, who wraps his arm around Joly. "We couldn't hear from him for one day, just imagine."

"The rest of you were okay, I suppose?" Grantaire asks, not paying much attention to their closeness, since it's none of his business.

"A few injuries from our escape." Bossuet shrugs. "But nothing too serious. Joly took care of us."

"I'm in charge of health," Joly explains, grinning, when Grantaire raises an eyebrow at them.

"So you have roles?" Grantaire asks. And they do, apparently. Joly is a med school graduate, taking care of injuries and anything else they need in that matter. If risks to their health aren’t horribly dangerous, Enjolras doesn't want them to visit the hospital, Grantaire learns. "For the sake of our stealth." Bossuet explains to him while he rolls his eyes. He is the architect, studying the buildings they are going to break into and forming plans.

Feuilly, who arrives the next day with Courfeyrac, is the _best fucking driver in the world_ , according to his travel companion.

"My job is to always keep the attention on me." Courfeyrac grins at Grantaire as he helps him change the covers in their room. As Joly and Bossuet take the room opposite to Grantaire's, Courfeyrac annonces that he'll be more than glad to share Grantaire's room, if he doesn't have a problem with that. Grantaire thinks it's to keep an eye on him, but allows him anyway. "Eye candy, basically."

Grantaire is shocked when they tell him Courfeyrac is one of Enjolras's best friends, along with Combeferre. He can understand Combeferre - who's their hacker, it seems, - because he is as crazy about work as Enjolras. Even though he is kind, it's hard to call him friendly,which fits with Enjolras. But Courfeyrac..?

When Grantaire thinks he can't be more surprised, he meets Jehan. The guy is wearing braids and pastel colours.This alone makes Grantaire think that he came to the wrong house.

"Jehan."

He looks over his shoulder to find Enjolras at the kitchen door with an empty cup in his hand. The way his voice sounds so light makes Grantaire curious, but at least it's clear that the guy came to the right house. He steps aside to let Jehan in, who rushes to Enjolras and hugs him. Grantaire is more than shocked when he sees Enjolras is hugging back.

"Joly and Bossuet didn't let me come first." Jehan complains and- is that a smile that Grantaire sees on Enjolras's face? He doesn't pay attention to what Enjolras says back to him, because the smile leaves Grantaire breathless, even though it's not directed to him. This is the first time he sees Enjolras smile since they met, and it's not a simple curve of the lips, it's a real, warm smile.

It takes him a few seconds to realise Jehan is not carrying a suitcase, and he ignores the clench in his stomach to turn around and see who's following him.

Bahorel is the last one, carrying both his and Jehan's suitcases. Grantaire doesn't even have to ask his role. Bahorel is one of the biggest guys Grantaire's ever met, built and all, even has a scar over his right eye. He's the type of guy Grantaire would avoid if they'd met in different circumtances. But it seems that everyone is grateful for Grantaire helping Enjolras, so Grantaire thinks he is safe. He helps Bahorel find a good place to park the minivan.

Rain hasn't stopped yet, still continuing to pour hard and leave Grantaire's garden in mud, but it's not enough to stop Grantaire from escaping to the garden for a cigarette. He doesn't bother with an umbrella, just uses his hood to keep the water away from his hair. Even from here, he can still hear the voices and laughs coming from inside, and for a second he considers if it was a good idea to invite everyone over or not.

He feels like this since Combeferre arrived, because with every new person joins to the group, he feels like he is taking a step away from Enjolras. It feels like it was more easy when it was just two of them, flirting -mostly Grantaire- and scowling -mostly Enjolras- all the time.

Good thing is everyone gets along with Grantaire, except Enjolras, but that's no surprise. Grantaire doesn't think they’ve had a longer conversation than the one they had on the train, and that was only Enjolras trying to avoid police and look casual.

"Already regretting your decision?"

Grantaire turns around to find Enjolras standing in the doorway with an umbrella, which he opens as he takes his step down to stairs.He shakes his head. "No," he says, challenging. Enjolras shuts the door behind him and walks closer to Grantaire, sharing his umbrella.

"I'd like to take a look at that basement you mentioned earlier." He says, accepting the cigarette when Grantaire offers and drawing a breath in. It's like watching pure inspiration for Grantaire, and he doesn't think anyone would blame him for lingering his eyes on Enjolras for too long. The way he leans his head back when he blows the smoke is something to admire. "We don't want to occupy your living room for our meetings."

"I'm sure it's for your sake more than mine." Grantaire replies when manages to look at the other direction. Enjolras doesn't bother with his tease. "When?"

"After dinner?" Enjolras raises an eyebrow and Grantaire nods.

"Do you want me to find another room for Combeferre?" He asks finally, failing to ignore the clench in his stomach any longer. He doesn't know why he's so bothered with the fact so much. He’s only known Enjolras for a couple days, after all. And it's not like he has a crush on him. Yet.

"Why would I want that?" Enjolras frowns, more out of confusion than anger.

"So Jehan could move in with you."

Enjolras moves to take the cigarette from Grantaire. "I don't see why that's necessary."

"It's not necessary." Grantaire rolls his eyes, watching Enjolras draw another breath. "Since Joly and Bossuet are preferring to share a room, I thought-"

Enjolras's snort interrupts him.

"What's so funny?"

"Well." Enjolras gives the cigarette back and straightens. "Although my love life is none of your business, Jehan is not my boyfriend." He doesn't give Grantaire enough time to reply, simply shoves the umbrella into his hand and turns around. "See you at dinner, R."

Grantaire's kitchen is too small for everyone to fit in, so they end up eating in the living room instead. Enjolras occupies the armchair next to the window while Jehan sits in front of him and leans against his legs. Joly, Bossuet, and Courfeyrac are sprawled over the couch, Courfeyrac's legs disturbing Combeferre's shoulders as he sits on the floor just in front of the couch. Bahorel and Feuilly are sitting crosslegged opposite to them, their plates on the coffee table. Grantaire sees that the only empty space is opposite to Enjolras's armchair, and he takes it without complaining.

Enjolras and Combeferre are the only ones who are not touching their plates, eyes on their laptops. Grantaire follows them close enough, since he is mostly drinking than eating. He notices Enjolras's eyes on his bottle once or twice, but none of them say anything.

"It's too bad that I can't braid your hair anymore." Jehan says, his brows are drawn together and his mouth twisted.

"You braided Enjolras's hair?" Grantaire blinks. Everyone else grins but Enjolras, even Combeferre, though it's only a slight curve of his lips more than a grin. He just imagines Enjolras with his long hair braided to one side and covered with flowers. He is not sure if he should be amused or amazed by the image.

"Jehan has this special power on Enjolras." Courfeyrac steals food from Combeferre, since his own plate is already emptied.

"I think he has it on everyone." Bahorel speaks from the other side of the couch. Jehan slightly blushes and continues to play with his food, separating the vegetables from each other.

"He only did it once," Enjolras drawls without looking up.

"Actually it was twice, but Enjolras was drunk the second time, so he doesn't remember it and thinks he can act like it didn't happened," Courfeyrac continues. Enjolras glares at him. It's comforting to know that Enjolras glares at everyone, not just Grantaire.

"Enjolras was drunk?" Grantaire puts a hand on his chest. "Too much shocking news at once, guys."

"Very funny." Enjolras rolls his eyes.

Grantaire isn't sure if he is angry at what Grantaire said or at the fact that he had to look away from his laptop screen. "Come on, Apollo," There is another round of grins on everyone’s faces, which they both ignore. "Two or three days ago I thought everyone in Les Amis was like you."

Enjolras is still not over that Grantaire knows everyone in Les Amis now. Except Marius, who is not officially in the group. Grantaire doesn't know why he is not here, just that Enjolras is pissed off at him. It was actually quite amusing to watch Enjolras's face -despite the fact that it's always amusing to watch Enjolras's face- when Grantaire met each of them. He tensed up everytime, as though Grantaire was going to run off to the police and hand them over.

Joly laughed, shaking his head. "No, it's just Enjolras."

Enjolras looks like he can't decide whether to snap or to let his friends have al the fun. Either way, it's too late when he draws a breath to speak. Courfeyrac has already started to tell everyone about the guy he made out with during his trip here. "It was painful to watch." Feuilly mumbles under his breath.

Grantaire shows Enjolras the basement after dinner, since everyone insists that Grantaire is not going to do dishes while they are here. He doesn't protest, leading Enjolras to the hall. The door is covered with a painting, something Grantaire made when he was in highschool.

"I don't understand why you had to do build a barricade in your own basement." Enjolras sighs when he sees the basement, because half of it is with covered with Grantaire's old stuff, mostly paintings.

"You know the purpose of basements, right, Apollo?"

Enjolras rolls his eyes and picks up one of the paintings. It's a scene from one of the fairs, Grantaire doesn't remember very well. He was probably drunk when he made that one.

"You made this?" Enjolras asks, turns to Grantaire and looks into his eyes, probably the first time since his friends arrived.

"Yes." Grantaire shrugs and takes it away from Enjolras, putting it back.

Enjolras watches Grantaire for a moment, frowns, but he looks away when Combeferre joins them. "What do you think?" He asks, and the question is not for Grantaire.

"I think we can use it." Combeferre shrugs. "If we clean it up and everything."

"That will take time." Enjolras makes a face. "We can work in my room until then."

"You can use the living room, it's not like I hang out there."

"We don't want to disturb you further." Combeferre says but Grantaire snaps.

"Oh fuck it." He rolls his eyes. "You can just say that you don't want me to know any more than I already do. It's not a secret."

Neither of them argues, but Combeferre looks troubled.

"My room is enough, unless you don't have a bigger room." Enjolras continues, ignoring both of them.

"It's the biggest room in the house."

There is an awkward silence for a moment or two, then Grantaire pushes himself away from the wall. "Right. Anyway, I think all of us can clean up in less than a week,."

Enjolras nods and gives the room another glance before he leaves him alone with Combeferre. Grantaire finds himself closing his eyes when he goes back to the living room, with a little help from the wine he was drinking all night. Joly and Bossuet are already sleeping, tangled all over to each other.When Bahorel picks Jehan up to carry him upstairs, he decides that it's also his time to go to bed. He says "Good night," to Combeferre and Courfeyrac and hears it back, but Enjolras just gives him a nod without looking up and Grantaire makes his way upstairs, to his room.

Sleep doesn't come to Grantaire easily. It never had. He could feel his body scream for sleep, it's impossible to keep his eyes open, alcohol already settled in his blood, yet sleep doesn't come. Images of Enjolras haunts him.

He can’t remember the last time he couldn't sleep because he was thinking about someone. Frankly, he is not sure if what he does is simply _thinking_. He can feel his heartbeats strong in his chest, drowning him. He fights to breathe. It doesn't matter if he closes his eyes or opens them because it doesn't change the fact that there is Enjolras, somehow, filling the blanks in his mind. It starts with Enjolras smoking Grantaire's cigarette, head tipped back and curls falling back from his forehead. _His cigarette_. The thought makes Grantaire groan desperately in his pillow.

"Are you okay?"

He startles at the voice in the doorway, glad that there is not light enough to give his blush away.

"Yeah," Grantaire says to Courfeyrac, sitting up. "I just... uh." He rubs his face with both hands and presses his fingers hard into his skull. "I can't sleep."

"Any reasons?" Courfeyrac invites himself inside, taking his clothes off to get ready for bed.

Grantaire shakes his head instead of saying _“Yes, I'm getting obsessed over your best friend and even alcohol is not enough to stop it, thanks for asking”._ "Maybe I didn't drink enough."

Courfeyrac chuckles, climbing into bed. "You seemed like you drank enough to me."

"That's nothing compared to my usual," he admits, welcomed by a grin on Courfeyrac's face.

There is a silence as Grantaire watches him put his night clothes on and get into bed, leaning back with a smile on his face as though it was one of the best beds he'd ever laid on.

Grantaire finds himself glance at his paints. Painting helps, most of the time. Not to sleep but to keep his thoughts away from stress. It's his most focused state when he is painting. Not long after, he gets up with a sigh and ends up sitting in front of his easel.

"Are you going to paint?"

"Is it okay?" Grantaire glances at his new roommate.

"Yeah, go ahead." Courfeyrac settles in and closes his eyes. "I can sleep even when there is war outside."

Grantaire nods, only stopping to turn on the lights before giving his attention back to the blank canvas and glaring at it for a long moment. He decides it's not his greatest idea to run away from his thoughts this time, since everything he wants to paint has something about Enjolras in it. He refuses to paint the red leader because he knows everything is going to get worse and worse if he starts to do that. If he can't escape from Enjolras all day, there is only two other options to avoid him, which are alcohol and painting. He feels betrayed by both, since this time there is no help from neither.

It's almost an hour before he gives in to it and lets Enjolras drown him.

*

Grantaire finds himself in complete haste as winter wraps its arms around the town. Joly tells them not only the basement, but whole place needs a good clean up, and no one -including Grantaire- has right to say otherwise. They divide into groups. Bahorel, since he is the strongest, accepts to help Grantaire in the basement with Feuilly. Enjolras and Combeferre, on the other hand, just clean their own room and then continue to work on their laptops without any other break. Everyone decides it's better if they leave the garden until the summer, since it's impossible to clean it when there is rain pretty much everyday.

"We need some heaters in here." Bahorel sighs on the third day.

Even though there is no snow, a strong wind beats the buildings with fury. It's not that cold when they are covered with blankets and cozy socks around the house, but the basement is too much to deal with.

"I know." Grantaire makes a face, his nose is already red with the cold. "I'm hoping none of you will die before the spring."

They manage to get everything out of the basement in two days. Grantaire makes sure his paintings are stored safely in the attic, and he throws up pretty much everything but them. Eponine, a childhood friend, promises him a large table, even though she doesn't know why Grantaire would need it but she doesn't question him and Grantaire thinks he should return the favor by taking her out to dinner or something. It's already bad that he didn't call her immediately after he arrived, but things kept him busy, like _Les Amis_.

After two weeks spent cleaning, Enjolras decides it's time to get back on track. No one likes the idea, since they are all tired and bored being in the house all the time, but Enjolras insists. Since the basement is still in progress, he offers to start holding meetings in his room.

"Actually," Grantaire suddenly has the floor. "I have a friend who runs a coffee shop in the town center. It's never crowded and has a top floor which you can use for your meetings."

It's one of the nights where they gather in the living room for lunch. The food is nowhere near delicious, but it's hot and they are all cold, so no one complains.

Enjolras shakes his head- _of course he does_. "Privacy is our first priority."

"We need to get out, Enjolras." Courfeyrac supports Grantaire. "We can't hide in the house forever."

"How are we going to explain our presence?" Enjolras frowns and leans back, eyes on Grantaire like he expects an answer from him.

"I already thought about that." Grantaire shrugs, because he really did. Even though Eponine didn't ask questions, he thought it looked suspicious so came up with a story.

"And which is?" Combeferre asks.

"I told my friend that you are art students from the city, and I'm giving you a lesson. We don't have to tell everyone where you live, but we can pretend like we are meeting for that every week."

"Who told you that you're allowed to the meetings?" Enjolras sighs.

"Come on, Enjolras." Joly is quicker than Grantaire this time, so he doesn't get to snap. "R already knows enough about all of us. If he's going to give us in, he can do it even without knowing our plans."

It's really hard not to smirk when there are confirmative murmurs around the group, but surprisingly Grantaire manages it.

"Also, he's an outsider," Combeferre says. "Don't you always say that you need another perspective to challenge yourself?"

"R is not capable of challenging me," Enjolras says furiously. "Just like he is not capable of believing. The only field he can challenge is my belief, since he's the opposite of a believer."

Grantaire doesn't flinch at his words, but that's only because he grips his bottle very hard. He snorts, after another sip of his wine. "I have to admit that I'm very touched by the fact that you still remember our discussions." He looks into Enjolras's eyes, daring him. "But let's give it a try, Apollo. I'll make you see how good of a challenger I am."

Enjolras looks at Grantaire in a way that makes his breath hitch. He takes another sip from the bottle and surprised when Enjolras refuses to look away. _Fuck_. He's sure he just got himself another moment to get haunted during his sleepless nights.

"We'll see."

Everyone seems relax after Enjolras replies, and Grantaire pretends that he doesn't hear Bossuet whisper _“What the fuck was that?”_ in Joly's ear.

The bad thing about painting Enjolras is, that Grantaire has to wash red paints off of his hands every day. It's rather bitchy. He makes frustrated sounds at his hands as he tries to wash it off after lunch, -because of course he had to rush into his room when their conversation was over and try to capture Enjolras' expression- but when there is no use, he ends up in the shower for a better scrub.

Enjolras meets him in the hallway when he is about to leave, putting his coat on.

"Going somewhere?" he asks.

"Want a report, Apollo?"

Enjolras rolls his eyes. "Curious."

"I'm going to the police to report you guys."

" _R._ " He makes a frustrated noise, which makes Grantaire chuckle.

"On my way to meet Eponine," he explains, pulling the zip up. "The friend who runs the cafe. I'll see if she's willing to let us hold meetings there."

Enjolras tips his head up, looks like he's considering something. "Your hair is wet."

Grantaire blinks. "Excuse me?"

"It's really windy outside. Either blow dryyour hair or put a hat on."

He's not sure if he's amused by Enjolras bossing him around or pissed off by it, but he smirks anyway. "I'd rather you blowme dry."

Always a pleasure to watch Enjolras blush, Grantaire's smirk turns into a grin.

"Inform me when you're back."

"Sir, yes, sir," he drawls.Grantaire gives him a salute and leaves the housewith a beanie. He has no idea how to deal with the fact that Enjolras is worrying about his health, and resists the urge to test it, putting his beanie on and opening his umbrella. However, his umbrella doesn't help at all when there is a strong wind with the rain, and he's soaked by the time he ends up in The Musain.

"If you get sick, I won't be the one who looks after you," Eponine warns him when Grantaire walks in, but hugs him anyway.

"I know, Eponine, it's always comforting to know that."

She shoves Grantaire’s arm and leads him to the heat."To what do I owe the honour?"

"I just missed you."

"You don't miss me in this weather, Grantaire."

Grantaire rolls his eyes and takes his coat off, shivering. "Bring me something to warm up, would you?Preferably wine."

"Of course you prefer wine. I'd be shocked otherwise." She stings but walks away.

There is only another customer in the cafe, who's an old lady Grantaire has knownsince his childhood. This is probably the best reason he loves The Musain, because there is never too manypeople. Not even when it's summer. There arefancier cafes in the seaside that the posh city people prefer. It's only familiar faces anda few hipsters in The Musain, and Grantaire finds it more comfortable than any other place.

"Here ya go." Eponine comes back with hot wine and a blanket, putting it around Grantaire's shoulders.

"Marry me," Grantaire sighs in happiness.

"Unlike you, R, I still care about my sexual life enough not to marry a gay man."

"Like you do have one," he snorts.

"Shut up. Tell me why you are bothering me in this weather, when I'm not supposed to work because no one is crazy enough to get out." She crosses her legs on her seat. "And if you don’t leave a tip, I’ll stab you."

"Do you know that sometimes you get really scary?" Grantaire asks. "I need a favour."

"Spill."

"There arethese students from the city," he starts, and Eponine doesn't look like she's buying it, but she doesn't say anything, which Grantaire is grateful about. "And I'd like to meet them here instead of my house. It gets boring for me."

"Hmm. How many are you?"

"Nine, ten." Grantaire shrugs. "I'm sure it's more customers than you get in a month. And we meet every week."

"Yeah well, why not?" She stretcheslike a cat. "As long as you make sure everyone buysa drink or two."

"Deal." Grantaire grins at her.

"So, tell me about the city."

The conversation slids into more personal matters with that, and Grantaire tells her about the art course and it went. Or didn’t. He doesn't tell her that he came back because he barely has enough money to live on now, but they talk about possible work options for him.

As they talk, he learns that Eponine's father is coming to visit her, and there is a high chance that he's going to stay until the summer. Eponine's parents are one of the families who work in the fair when it's summer time, leaving for the city every winter.

"But why is he coming?" Grantaire asks, raising an eyebrow. He knows that they are not at all close with Eponine.

"I don't know." Eponine shrugs. "Didn't bother asking. He's probably up to something."

Grantaire nods, finishinghis cup and askingfor another.

It's almost midnight when he realises he completely lost track of time. "Shit," he curses, standing up. Enjolras is probably waiting for an answer, and Grantaire didn't even take his phone with him when he was leaving. "I need to go, 'Ponine. See you on Thursday?"

"Sure. Come for another drink, this was on me."

Grantaire gives her a hug before he hurries out, noticing that the rain continues to pour unmercifully, the storm stronger than ever. He curses all the way up to his house, hands still sore and red when he manages to get there, even though they were shoved into his pockets on the way.

The light in the living room is off, to Grantaire's surprise, because it's early for Enjolras to sleep. He ignores the fact that he knows at what time Enjolras goes to sleep, and makes his way up to his room to change out of his wet clothes. Courfeyrac is texting in hisbed.

"Enjolras was worried about you," he tells Grantaire when he steps in.

"Of course he was." Grantaire rolls his eyes, an amused smirk on his face. "My friend let us use the cafe for meetings."

"Thank god," Courfeyrac says. "I was starting to get insane."

"I don't think my house is that boring."

"It's not. But Enjolras and Combeferre are."

"I thought they were your best friends." Grantaire grins.

"They are, but I'm not going to lie about their personalities just because of that."

Grantaire finishes putting his clothes on. "Do you think Enjolras is still up?"

"Probably."

He nods and leaves Courfeyrac to go back to texting, walking over to Enjolras's room. When he knocks, there is no sound so he assumeshe and Combeferreare sleeping. He's proven wrong when Enjolras opens the door.

There is a pause when he observes Grantaire, who's into dry clothes now but his wet hair and red nose still give him away. Grantaire tries very hard not to move under Enjolras's gaze. "Combeferre is sleeping," he speaks finally, a short explanationas he steps out and closes the door behind him.

"Oh." Grantaire nods, still in need of drawing a breath because they stand awkwardly close to each other. He doesn't take a step back, and neither does Enjolras.

"You're late."

"I'm starting to think you spent the whole day worrying about me, Apollo." A teasing smile breaks to thesurface when Grantaire talks, as it does everytime he talks toEnjolras.

"I have work to do," Enjolras says, which is another way to tell him that he is busy and that Grantaire should make it short.

"Well, she said yes. We are going there on Thursday."

"You are sure she's trustworthy?"

"No doubt."

Enjolras doesn't seem like he trusts Grantaire's judgement, but after a moment he lets it go and nods. "Good."

They standin silence long enough for someone to walk in on them, and Grantaire isn't sure if he's lucky or not that the person is Bahorel. He gives them a raised eyebrow and a quick smirk, then disappears again, but that's enough for Enjolras to clear his throat and take a step back.

"Anyway," he says. "Thank you for the effort, R. See you in the morning."

"Good night, Apollo." Grantaire nods. "Try to get some sleep."

Enjolras makes a face at Grantaire in return but leavesit at "Good night" when he goes back to the room.

Grantaire lingers where he is after that, watches the door and whispers to himself, very silently. _"Fuck."_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire blends in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again!  
> I'd like to thank everyone for kudos&comment, they mean a lot to me. I'm not entirely happy with the first part of this chapter but I hope the second part will make up for it.   
> Of course I thank again to my amazing beta captainbuckybarnes for doing a great job and refusing to get bored with my mistakes, which are quite a lot.   
> The next chapter might be a little late, because both me and my beta get starting with our courses soon.  
> Enjoy!

News of holding the meetings outside is welcomed by everyone as Enjolras announces it the next morning with an unsure frown. Joly pats Grantaire's back, with a huge grin on his face, and asks if that means Grantaire can also show them around the town shortly before the meeting. He keeps his tone low so Grantaire doesn't see a reason to raise his own as he promises his agreement, and he is praised with a bright smile in return.

It's not too long before he realises that he grows fond of everyone in time, his thoughts completely different from the first week he met them. Even though he prefers to be slightly away from the group and listen them from afar, he eventually finds himself pulled into a conversation, whether a comfortable chit chat with Joly and Bossuet, who became his drinking buddies in such a short time, or discussion on art with Jehan. Now living with the guy for weeks, Grantaire sees why everyone is so fond of Jehan. He is one of the most delicate souls Grantaire's ever met. That's one of the reasons why he is in complete shock when Bahorel tells him Jehan is their sniper. He's a man who is kind and gentle, but there is no hesitation in his actions when it comes to protect his friends. Grantaire respects that.

Courfeyrac, on the other hand, drives Grantaire crazy with silly pop songs he listens in the mornings and his stupid grin that makes Grantaire want to punch him but hug him at the same time. And it's no secret that everyone else is at the same level with Grantaire.

"Is that Enjolras?" He asks the first time he notices Grantaire paints their red leader, and Grantaire goes very, very still. He looks up to meet Courfeyrac's eyes, who grins back to him without another word. He never hears Courfeyrac speak about it again, even though their room starts to get crowded with Enjolras day by day.

Even the thought of going out boosts their spirits, and even before Enjolras turns back to his computer, Grantaire finds himself working in the basement with Bahorel again. It's pretty much done by now, the only thing left is cleaning and bringing the furniture. He manages to find two heaters from a second hand shop in the town and they spend the day cleaning the basement and setting them up.

By Thursday, the basement is ready for the meeting, but Feuilly thinks it's better if they keep their mouth shut or Enjolras is going to make them meet up down there. No one argues with him.

"That's how we are going to do it." Grantaire pulls a map of the town on the table later that day. "I'll take Joly and Bossuet earlier with me, but these are the roads you can follow."

Enjolras raises an eyebrow, leans against the map, and Grantaire finds it hard to focus when Apollo's hand is pressed against his own on the table. He shows them the paths they could use, so it won't be too obvious they are all coming from the same direction. "I have your numbers," he tells them. "Give me a call if you get lost, I'll give you the directions."

Combeferre takes the map off the table and scans it with his phone, makes sure everyone gets a copy.

"You should also get a smart phone." Combeferre sighs but Grantaire rolls his eyes as a reply, so he doesn't press any further.

He gets a text from Eponine that says they'll paint the machines for money in spring time. It's not his dream job or anything, but it's better than draining his bank account. He is grateful that none of his guests lets him pay for anything, but Grantaire has to admit to himself that they'll go one day. He just ignores the fact for the moment. Getting obsessed over Enjolras is something he couldn't accept yet; he doesn't want to add another drama into the situation.

They leave with Joly and Bossuet, all of them wrapped in scarves and gloves and every possible item of winter clothing that might save them from getting sick, because Joly refused to let them out until they put them on. The sky is full of dark clouds, promising rain very soon, but the streets are dry, and Grantaire thinks it's simply Joly’s and Bossuet's luck.

"Thanks for agreeing to do this, R," Bossuet tells him as they start to walk away from the house. Jehan waves goodbye to them.

Grantaire shrugs. "I need this as much as you do."

"Come on, it's not like Enjolras keeps you locked up like us."

"No, but he gets crazy every time I leave." None of them argue. "I don't think he trusts me."

"Of course he does," Joly says, and Grantaire rolls his eyes. "If he didn't, he wouldn't stay."

"It's not like he had another choice."

"You always say that," Joly continues. "But you don't know Enjolras. We've been into worse situations when no one helped us get undercover, and he always found a way to pull us out of it."

Bossuet hums his agreement, but Grantaire just frowns deeply, silently refusing to believe Joly.

"You should be here in the summer." He changes the subject. "I'm sure you'd be enjoy the fair."

There is little to see in the town in the winter, so they don't take too long to get to the Musain. Bossuet doesn't let go of Joly's hand once, stopping every now and then to give each other a kiss. They are disgustingly cute, and Grantaire sighs at himself when his mind tries to trick him into imagining Enjolras and himself in their place. I need to get wasted, Grantaire thinks. It's too much to handle.

Jehan is already waiting at the cafe when they arrive, chatting with Eponine at the counter. It's surprising to Grantaire since Eponine has a rule about hating everyone in general. But he knows it's very hard to resist Jehan.

"Good evening Ponine." Grantaire walks toward her, getting rid of the scarf already as he leans down to kiss her on the cheek. Eponine punches his arm in return. "I see you already met Jehan."

Joly steps closer to introduce himself and Bossuet and Grantaire uses this to get behind the counter. He searches through Eponine's alcohol collection until he finds something strong enough to help him with... well everything in general, really.

Eponine shows them upstairs after chatting with Joly and Bossuet for a bit and doesn't leave until everyone orders a drink. Jehan also orders a cake with his drink, just to be nice, and Grantaire can't help but grin. Feuilly is next to arrive, groaning something about stray dogs and how he was nearly bitten. Bahorel follows him, rolling his eyes. As they start to gather around tables, Grantaire looks out of the window and he is not sure if he has a good timing or not, because Enjolras is just outside with Combeferre, both of their heads ducked down as they walk together. His hand twitches to grab a pencil, but there is none around. He just wants to sketch Enjolras like that, head ducked and red scarf wrapped around his neck as he walks down the street. He almost groans when he loses sight of him as they enter the cafe but manages to hide it into his bottle and takes a large sip.

He hates the way Enjolras affects him. It's more than obvious that Enjolras has no interest in him at all. He doesn't trust Grantaire, nor does he see him as good enough to even challenge himself. But Grantaire knows that he's already lost in Enjolras. His stupid glares and golden hair and the way he curls his mouth when Grantaire teases him. It doesn't happen all the time, but sometimes he finds Enjolras doing that and thinks maybe, just _maybe_ , there is be a possibility. Even a slight one. Then they start to argue, and Grantaire winces like he wakes up from a dream.

"Where's Courf?" Combeferre asks as they walk in, coats and scarves already off. Enjolras brings a hand to his curls and shakes them into place and Grantaire just glares because it's not fucking fair.

"I thought he was going to leave with you." He hears Bahorel without looking away from Enjolras.

"No." Enjolras turns to his friend, doesn't even notice Grantaire. "He left after you, told me that you had something to talk with him."

Combeferre huffs something under his breath as he pulls his phone out. Only then Grantaire looks at Combeferre and watches him instead of Enjolras.

"Do you need my help?" He offers.

"He’s not picking up."

"I bet he got himself lost." Enjolras sighs as he sits down and brushes a hand through his hair again. _Fuck_ , he really needs to stop doing that.

Everyone watches Combeferre trying to reach to Courfeyrac for half an hour because it's impossible to do anything else, since he walks back and forth in the room. When he gives up, Grantaire offers to take a walk around the city and find him. "It's not that big after all," he tells them. "Maybe he went back home." That's when he hears Gavroche, Eponine's little brother, singing loudly. The voice comes clearer every second. Courfeyrac appears on the stairs with a grin on his face, singing along with Gavroche and carrying the kid on his shoulder. Enjolras simply rolls his eyes.

"You idiot!" Combeferre cries, brows furrowed in anger. "I called you a thousand times! Why don't you look at your damn phone?"

"My hands were occupied,"he says innocently, because yes they are, since he is holding Gavroche up. "I didn't hear it."

Combeferre glares at Courfeyrac, and Grantaire wonders how he looks more scarier than Enjolras when he is glaring. Courfeyrac rolls his eyes and puts Gavroche down, walking to Combeferre to wrap his arm around the hacker's shoulders. He pulls Combeferre close and gives him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"You worried about me?" He grins. Combeferre looks like he is still pissed off, but he's not as tense as before.

"We thought you were lost, idiot."

"I was," Courfeyrac admits. "Gavroche found me on the street and asked me whatI was looking for."

"My place, apparently," Gavroche says with a huge grin, now sitting on one of the tables. He notices Grantaire and gives him a salute.

"You wish." Eponine shows up with the drinks and Jehan's cake. "Get off the table, Gavroche, or I will make you clean it."

"What a witch," Gavroche sighs, cracking everyone up. Even Enjolras is smiling. It's not a full smile but close enough.

" _Gavroche!_ "

By the time Eponine finishes delivering their orders, everyone takes their places, and she leaves with Gavroche behind her back. Grantaire takes a table near the stairs, at the very back of the room as Enjolras does the opposite. He sits at the table where Grantaire was sitting when they first arrived, the one with a large window. Grantaire is glad that he managed to steal a pencil and commission notebook from Eponine before she left, because Enjolras looks even more angelic, washed with warm light but the background is the complete opposite.

There is a silence in the room as Enjolras makes the final discussions with Combeferre. Sitting at the same table with him and looking calmer now, Courfeyrac is still at his side. Enjolras's laptop is open on the table, covered in papers. He talks about somewhere Grantaire never heard before and how there are children in need of food and clothes. That's what they were researching with Combeferre for two weeks, and there is no other organisation in the world to care about them. He tells them that they need to do something about it because that's what their cause is, after all, helping people when there is no one.

They discuss about how to do it and where they can find clothes and food. Combeferre drops some names into discussion while Courfeyrac says they can't just go out and steal clothes or food this time.

"What, do you expect us to go and steal children clothes?" He rolls his eyes. "We need money this time, Enjolras."

Grantaire stays in the back, sipping his bottle and listening as he sketches Enjolras or the scene infront of him, biting his tongue every time Enjolras says something stupidly naive because it's his first meeting and he doesn't want to be kicked out.

But there is nothing in the world that he can hold his snort back when Enjolras speaks about the impact their act would make in the media and how it'll bring attention on unknown places in the world which suffers.

Enjolras cuts his speech in the middle, looking at Grantaire and there is an expression like he just bit a lemon.

"What's the matter, R?"

"Nothing." Grantaire sighs, doesn't look up from the notebook yet. "I don't want to interrupt your speech."

"You alrady did." He snaps. "You might aswell continue."

"Well," Grantaire drops the notebook on the table and sits upright, looks up to see Combeferre places an arm on Enjolras's arm like he's warning, but the red leader shakes it off. "I don't think that's gonna work."

"What are you talking about?"

"The impact on the media," Grantaire says, and Enjolras looks suprised like he didn't expect Grantaire to actually listen him. "Nothing lasts forever in the media, you know. There were examples in the past. Something really bad happens, people get angry, and they walk on that stupid show about what to do and how to do it, but two days later something else happens and everyone forgets about it. You can never count on the media. Well, you can never count on _people_."

Enjolras looks angry, shaking his head as Grantaire speaks. "Two days could be enough to get some attention from organisations," he argues.

"If the world is too boring and nothing happens at the moment, sure. But do you really think your five minutes of fame will make that much of a difference?"

"Papers will write about it. Papers always write about Les Amis."

"It's not like people actually read newspapersin this century, Apollo."

Enjolras visibly winces at the nickname, furrowing his brows deeper. "So what's your brilliant suggestion?"

"Nothing. Because I don't think people will care, whatever you do."

"They'll care."

"You are so naive." Grantaire laughs, finishes his drink as he looks into Enjolras's eyes. There is a silence in the room as Enjolras glares at him, but Grantaire doesn't really return it since it's really amusing. He looks at Enjolras with a mocking expression on his face and knows that it pisses Enjolras off worse, but there is nothing he can do about it. He mocks because there is no other way for him to just sit and listen this. It's stupid and naive and he doesn't know how to deal with it when they fail. If he'll stick around to see them fail, anyway.

Enjolras grits his teeth and continues his speech after he collects himself. He sounds bitter and challenging. Grantaire doesn't quite bring himself to draw again so he just leans back and watches Enjolras speak, challenge him back in his own stubborn way.

Their eyes meet for a couple times before the speech ends and Enjolras frowns slightly every time, looks away immediately.

Combeferre wraps the meeting up and tells everyone what they should do for the next days. After that everyone relaxes into their seats and starts chit chatting. Grantaire doesn't move, watching Enjolras as he sits down and accepting the wine Courfeyrac offers him.

When it's closing time for the Musain, Eponine kicks them out with a grin on her face. Courfeyrac leaves a few banknotes at the table where Gavroche is sleeping and pats his head softly before he leaves with Grantaire, a smile on his face.

"You have to be careful with him." Grantaire talks after they are outside, chill air helps him focus a little better. "He's probably the most dangerous person in the town. If he suspects anything, we're damned."

Courfeyrac laughs, takes Grantaire's arm to help him walk because Grantaire is obviously drunk. "And you have to be careful with the Chief."

"Chief?" Grantaire snorts. "Is that your version of his nickname?"

"Better than yours." Courfeyrac nudges him.

"Apollo is the best nickname ever." He drawls, eyes on Enjolras. He walks with Combeferre again, far away from them but still noticable. "He's nice."

Courfeyrac is silent for a few moments before he talks again. "You looked like you want to beat him up until he understands what you mean today."

"I would never hurt that lovely face." Grantaire grins.

"Oh, R. You are already so smitten, aren't you?"

"You've seen the paintings." Grantaire makes a face. Fuck the alcohol, it's messing with his head again. "I'm drunk. You shouldn't make me talk about him when I'm drunk. I forbid it."

They make it home before Grantaire tells more embarassing stuff about himself. It's warm inside and Grantaire groans, closing his eyes as he lets Courfeyrac take his weight and carry him to the living room, where Enjolras writes the outcome of today's meeting on his laptop. He looks up when Courfeyfac drops Grantaire on the couch.

"I'll get Bahorel. There's no way I can help you upstairs on my own."

Before Grantaire can protest and say that he can sleep on the couch, Courfeyrac is replaced with Enjolras. Grantaire frowns, confused. The red leader sits next to him, watching him silently.

"Apollo?" He draws a breath.

"You are so drunk." Enjolras sighs, helping him sit up and puts a glass of water on his hand. "Why did you drink this much?"

"I always drink this much." Grantaire makes a face at the glass, has no idea when Enjolras went to bring it.

"Drink it," Enjolras urges. "You'll be grateful in the morning."

Grantaire tries to complain again but there is something in Enjolras' eyes that makes him drink the whole glass.

"Here, happy now, Apollo?"

"Don't call me that."

"Why? I can't even pronounce your name right, you can't seriously make me say it everytime I want to call for you."

Enjolras chuckles softly, rolling his eyes. "Call me something else."

"No." Grantaire smirks, stubborn. "It suits you. You are like the sun." Enjolras goes still as he raises his hand, but doesn't touch. He doesn't know if it's just alcohol, but Enjolras looks so bright, so beautiful and his eyes hurt when he watches him. "I feel like I'll get burned if I touch you," he admits in a quiet whisper.

"You’re drunk," Enjolras repeats but this time he is also whispering.

"I'm always drunk, Apollo." Grantaire smiles, dropping his hand without another word.

He doesn't get to hear Enjolras's answer, because he moves away when Bahorel walks in with Courfeyrac. They help him upstairs to his room. Grantaire only manages to keep his eyes open while Courfeyrac takes his shoes off. Then he falls asleep.

*

After the first meeting in the Musain, which ended with an argument and a drunk Grantaire, it was obvious that Enjolras thought it over when it was the time for the second one. "He doesn't even listen." Grantaire heard him argue with Courfeyrac in the kitchen one day. "He just sits back there and gets drunk. I don't see the point-"

"If he wants to come, none of us will stop him, Enjolras. Not even you."

"This is rid-"

"Enjolras, come on."

"You don't owe me anything, Courf." Grantaire walked in just in time to startle them, placing a frown on the red leader's face.

"Don't be stupid." Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "Even though we owe you, like, big time, I'm not saying this because of that."

He doesn't hear Enjolras saying something about it again but he is pretty sure that's because he's being more careful and doing the talking when Grantaire isn't around.

With December comes snow, leaving streets icier and colder than ever, which is rare in Grantaire's town since it's near the sea, but not impossible, and causes them miss two meetings in a row. It's not like they miss them completely, because the basement is ready and being used by Les Amis since Bahorel and Grantaire are done with it, but the cold doesn't let them go out so they don't make it to the Musain. It gets lonely during the day, Grantaire thinks, because after lunch pretty much everyone disappears in the basement- even though it's not that big, they all squeeze in, some of them sitting on the couch or just turning themselves into a ball on the floor with blankets like Jehan.

Grantaire is invited several times, but he prefers to stay out of the basement since it's the only time he's alone in the house and can focus on his paintings. After seeing some of his paintings- old ones, not the ones with Enjolras- Jehan beamed like he'd seen the most beautiful kittens in his life and in a few days he told Grantaire that he has some commissions for him. He was kind enough to drop Grantaire's name to some people he knows, and now Grantaire works on small sized canvases and does paintings for some shops. Selling his art at such small prices or selling his art at all don't make him really happy, but at least now he's making money enough to live on until spring, until he gets a fair job.

He decides to thank Jehan by taking him out to the little book shop in town center, partly because he knows Jehan would love there and partly becausehe is really bored being in the house all the time and needs some fresh air, even though that means he'll suffer later frompurple fingertips and ared nose. Jehan is of course more than pleased, only taking little time to put his knitted scarf on, so they make it to the town center in no time.

"Do you think you'll be offically in Les Amis?" Jehan asks him as they walk.

Grantaire snorts. Like Enjolras would let him. "I don't think so. I don't share the cause and I'm no use to you. You have all the professions you need."

"I think we could find something for you." He warms Grantaire with a smile and takes his arm.

"Hire me to braid Apollo's hair when it's longer."

"You got yourself a deal."

Grantaire accepts Jehan's smile with his own, leading him into the bookshop. They spend the next hour in there, chatting with the owner and looking through the shelves in complete delight. It's an old, dusty place with a limited space to move, books piled up on the desks when there is no space left in the shelves. It doesn't get updated very often so it's quite hard to find new books, but Grantaire was never into bestsellers anyway. He walks around as Jehan loses himself in thepoetry section, until he pauses at the history section. There is a cover that catches his eye. It's a book about the most effective revolutions in history and how they came alive, something familiar from his college years. Grantaire smirks at the cover and buys it for Enjolras without a second thought.

They both leave the shop with smiles on their faces but its hard to keep the smiles on their faces when they step outside. "Fuck!" Grantaire groans as the cold bites his face. "I forgot how cold it is." He tugs at his scarf harder and quickens his steps, his fingertips already turning numb.

"Let's say hi to Eponine," Jehan offers as they turn the corner and come to the street where the Musain is. "We're already here after all." Grantaire nods, since yes, they are already at the center, and he doesn't know the next time they'll be here to see Eponine.

The Musain is open, to Grantaire's surprise, and warm and cozy, as always. He doesn't really get how Eponine manages to get out of bed every day in this weather. Or in any weather at all. He can't imagine himself at one of those office jobs that people have to go in every morning and come home when it's late, spending the day with sitting in front of a desk all the time and get paid like shit in return. It's a nightmare for him. At least Eponine's job is not that boring, he thinks, since she gets to chat with other people and Gavroche is mostly hanging out there when he doesn't have school, but she still has to wake up early and come here in this weather. Grantaire pities her. Not that he'd ever admit it to Eponine. He doesn't want to die in a painful way, thank you very much.

Jehan lets out a breath and grins in pleasure when they push the door and step inside, warm air welcomes them. "I missed being here," he says in a child's voice who just found his lost toy.

"Me too." Even the sight of the cafe brings Grantaire warm memories. Although it's open, neither Eponine nor Gavroche is anywhere to be seen. He frowns a little, walking toward the counter. "Ponine?" He calls, looking around to find her. "Are you here?"

"She went home." There is an unfamiliar voice which startles Grantaire, and a man comes downstairs with a light in his eyes that Grantaire finds exteremely uncomfortable. "I'm afraid you just missed her. She was here ten minutes ago."

"Ah." Grantaire nods. "It's okay, I'll give her a call," he says. "You must be her father."

"Thenardier."

"It's been too long . I don't think you remember me at all. I'm Grantaire."

Thenardier raises his eyebrows in interest and then smiles fakely at him. "Oh yes, R, how can I forget? Eponine always gives you discounts. You're hard to forget on the economical subject, you know."

Grantaire smiles awkwardly, thinking how he could just take off without looking too rude. He's sure if he stays any longer, the guy will start to ask for money. That reminds him how much he disliked Eponine's parents when he was a kid.

"We should probably go."

"Now now, is it kind to walk into a cafe and run off without having anything? You could use a coffee, I noticed, it's really cold outside." The smile he tries to give is intentionally sympathetic, but he fails big time.

"We were just here to say hi," Jehan says behind Grantaire, and he nods along to agree. "We'll have coffee at home."

"And you are?.." His interest turns to Jehan instead.

"Jehan. One of Grantaire's students."

"Students?"

"I give art classes." Grantaire lies quickly. From the way his face looks, the father doesn't look any more convinced than his daughter. Grantaire gets the hint that might not keep it to himself either."We should really go. Classstarts in fifteen minutes."

They manage to get out with just a little suspicious look on Thenardier's face, and Grantaire grumbles into his scarf, trying to think about something else on the way home.

*

Courfeyrac decides a movie night is what they deserve in this cold weather as soon as Grantaire makes it home with Jehan, both looking frozen. He gives them a couple hours to recover with a hot bath and maybe a short nap. Grantaire lets Jehan bathe first, locking himself in the bedroom since Courfeyrac is busy looking through the new poetry books Jehan brought, resting on his bed and texting with Eponine about her father.

_(Don't let him creep you off. You're welcome in the shop all the time_. Eponine texts him.

_I think that's mostly what bothers him, Ponine.)_

It's not that he's afraid of Eponine's father. Because he's old enough not to get scared by his friends' parents, thank you very much. But something about that guy has always bothered Grantaire. He knows how shitty a parent he is, and it's not even about that. He's a man who could sell them to the police without a second thought if he finds out about the situation in Grantaire's house. Grantaire doesn't know if it's better to tell Enjolras or not. Even though he doesn't want to admit himself, he is actually freaking out at the idea of Enjolras hearing this and deciding to leave here before things get worse. The red leader is someone who doesn't even like the possibility of something like that, after all.

When the day turns into night, and they are already full from dinner, Grantaire makes popcorn for everyone while the rest of them (mostly Bahorel) move the couches around in the living room to make sure everyone will squeeze in together and have a good position to see the screen. Grantaire doesn't have a really big TV, but no one seems to mind it.

"Joly," he calls out because the popcorn is nearly done, and he doesn't want it to burn while he's upstairs to call Enjolras. "A little help here?"

Joly comes in with Bossuet, looks a little shaken, and Grantaire doubts that's because of effort to move furtinure around. "Of course. What do you need me to do?" He says with a huge smile, walking close to the oven.

"Just make sure it doesn’t burn,don't make out on it, and we're fine," Grantaire teases, and is rewarded with a kick to his hip as he leaves the kitchen, grinning.

Noises from downstairs are muffled as Grantaire makes his way up, stopping in his room before he finally makes it to Enjolras's and gives the door a knock. He's expecting a 'Come in' or at least a 'Yes?' but all he get is a grumble from the other side, in which Grantaire flashes a grin in return.

"You always grumble people in?" He opens the door and invites himself in, making sure it's closed behind him. Enjolras looks up from his bed when he hears it's Grantaire.

Grantaire doesn't remember the last time he's been in this room, but it's nothing like he remembered. He'd expect Enjolras and Combeferre to be tidy, because they scare the hell out of everyone in the basement when there is something not in the right spot, but their room is partly a mess. Partly, because except for the desk and bed, it's perfectly neat. But there is a mess of electronic stuff and cables on the desk, which Grantaire doesn't even try to figure out what they are, and the bed is covered with sheets of paper. Enjolras, in Grantaire's delight, is lying in the middle of that mess, propped up by his elbows, his laptop is on in front of him and his curls are a messy ocean. No one can blame Grantaire if his eyes lingers on Enjolras's hips, the perfect curl of the body wrapped tight in his red skinny jeans.

Enjolras, however, removes himself from the bed as Grantaire walks in, fixing his turned shirt. "R?" He looks surprised to have him here.

"Hi." Grantaire flashes another grin. "I'm here to let you know that everyone is ready for the movie night."

The red leader looks over his shoulder to his bed, to his work, and sighs deeply. "Okay."

"You cantake a break, you know."

"I know, R, I didn't argue." Enjolras rolls his eyes and goes back to his bed, saving a few files on his laptop.

Grantaire doesn't leave the room. "I thought you'd be more...tidy." He says, eyes roaming over the room.

"Combeferre refuses to take that mess off the desk." Enjolras complains. "I don't have a space to work."

"You have the basement."

"Joly doesn't let me hang around there all the time. Something about my need for sleep or my eyes or some-"

"Human stuff like that," Grantaire finishes for him. Enjolras finishes his job on his laptop and spares Grantaire a glare before he gets onto his feet. "I went to the bookstore today. With Jehan."

Enjolras looks puzzled, like he doesn't understand -as he's done- why Grantaire doesn't leave the room yet. "I know."

"I thought this might interest you." Grantaire hands him the book, wrapped in a paper. "I'm afraid the rain battered it a little, but I don't think it's not readable."

Enjolras looks surprised, and Grantaire decides that it makes him look human. He tries to smile as Enjolras collects the book from his hands and raises an eyebrow at it. Then Grantaire actually hears Enjolras laugh, which is a first (because it's directed to him) and blinks. His laugh is warm and Grantaire can't help himself but stare at his face in awe, because it suits him, and he always wants to see Enjolras laugh. When you have a laugh like that, grumbling all the time is some sort of a crime.

"Thank you very much, R," Enjolras says, his expression still soft and light when he looks up at Grantaire again. "I appreciate it."

Grantaire brings a hand to his hair, ruffling it as he smiles back at Enjolras. "No problem."

He watches Enjolras put the book somewhere safe before they stop smiling idiotically at each other and join the rest of their friends in the living room. Everyone is in their spots when they walk in. Courfeyrac yells at them to turn the light off and sit down already. This is how he ends up sitting next to Enjolras. Courfeyrac sits on one of the armchairsthat are normally by the window, but now they are in the middle of the room, and Jehan sits on his lap, eyes already on the screen even though it's dark. Joly and Bossuet are in the big couch with Combeferre and Feuilly. Bahorel sits on the floor, head against Feuilly's knees.

"I'm starting it." Bossuet warns them and hits the play button.

Grantaire, expectedly, doesn't care about the movie at all when Enjolras sits next to him. He offers Enjolras popcorn and watches his face when he's amused with something or scowling silently at some imperfections. He likes the way Enjolras's face light up only by only light coming from the TV, he likes the shadows on his hair. It's not warm and bright as always but it surprises Grantaire how cold colours go very well with the red leader aswell as warm ones.

Halfway through the movie, Joly stops them to go to the bathroom, which everyone complains about, but he promises alcohol on his way back, so they shut up quickly. It surprises Grantaire when Enjolras turns to him.

"Are you going to watch the movie or stare at me all night?" He rolls his eyes, even though it's obvious that he's not that bothered with the fact.

"I was planning to watch you." Grantaire flashes a grin at him. "Come now, Apollo, I can't really focus on anything else when such a beauty sits next to me." He dares to flirt.

"How do you even manage to work?"

"It's not hard when all I had to do is paint you all day long."

Enjolras gives him another roll of his eyes, which makes it obvious that he doesn't take Grantaire serious about this. Grantaire nudges him and grins again. "Do you really enjoy the movie?" he asks, to continue their conversation before Enjolras decides to turn and talk with Combeferre, which is not unlikely since they are best friends and start to talk instantly when there is a silence. "I didn't know you were into super hero stuff."

"I certainly am not." Enjolras informs him. "But Courf likes them so I have enough experience and knowledge on the matter."

Joly returns with bottles as Grantaire asks, "Then I bet you know a lot about pop songs."

Enjolras makes a face. "I try not to."

"It must be very hard, since Courfeyrac makes sure to yell them in our ears five times a day."

"Tell me about it."

Courfeyfac hushes them once again when everyone makes sure they have a drink, even Enjolras, and starts the movie again. This time Grantaire tries to relax and keep his eyes on the screen.This is probably one of the most relaxing conversations he’s had with Enjolras in weeks, and he doesn't know when Enjolras decided not to hate Grantaire that much, but he's glad.

Maybe it's because Grantaire hasn’t pissed him off lately, since they skipped two meetings in a row, and Enjolras always kept himself in his room with work when they were in the house. He's sure as soon as they go back to talking work Enjolras will get back his self and scowl Grantaire to death.

As the movie comes to an end, Joly is already asleep on Bossuet, Jehan looks equal as he tries to keep his eyes open on Courfeyrac's lap, who is one of the waken ones, and moves his hand up and down Jehan's arm. Grantaire wonders if there is something between them, but with Jehan, you can never be sure. Everyone approaches the guy with same affection (even Enjolras and Combeferre), and Courfeyrac is not really a type for relationships. But he'd make a terribly good father, as Grantaire observed when he watched him with Gavroche.

Enjolras doesn't look sleepy at all, but he's slumped, constantlybiting his lips like he wants to do something with them. Well Grantaire wants to do something with them but he's not going to say it.

"We should do this again," Courfeyrac says when the movie finally ends, quietly so he won't wake Jehan up.

"And watch something everyone would like," Combeferre drawls.

"That also means we are not watching your boring documentaries, Ferre."

Combeferre rolls his eyes and takes his glasses off to rub his eyes. "Better than this unrealistic shit."

"I'm not going to argue with you over this again." Courfeyrac ends it and scoops Jehan up. "Mind if I take him to our room, R?"

"Nah. I'll crash here." He’s too lazy to actually stand up and go all the way upstairs and climb into his bed. Couch's just nice.

"You are going to give yourself aches all over," Enjolras comments.

"I'm touched as always by the fact you are worried about me, Apollo." Grantaire leans into him and in his surprise, Enjolras doesn't jerk away. "I will start to think you started to grow fond of me."

"I am fond of all of my friends, R, doesn't make you special."

Grantaire blinks, looks up to Enjolras so he can confirm if the other jokes or not. Did just Apollo called him his friend? Because if Enjolras thinks that doesn't make Grantaire special, fuck him.

"Oh."

The moment is broken by Bahorel as he tells goodbye and helps Bossuet carry Joly to their room, followed by Feuilly. Combeferre pats Enjolras's shoulder as he also gets on his feet. Grantaire tries not to grumble when Enjolras also does the same. He hates Combeferre so much sometimes.

"Good night R," Combeferre says. "I'm hoping to eat some of your omelettes for breakfast."

Grantaire climbs onto the couch. "If you are really really lucky," he teases. "Good night, both of you." Enjolras nods at him silently.

Grantaire is not sure who covers him with a blanket when he falls asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire wants in, Enjolras thinks not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I know it took me long on this chapter but both me and my beta have school work etc. I'll try to be a bit more quicker with the next chapter, but no promises, we'll see how it'll go by the month.
> 
> Once again I thank my beta captainbuckybarnes for good work.
> 
> If I have any mistakes, I apologise for them.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

To Grantaire's surprise, Enjolras actually takes his time from working to read the book Grantaire gave him. The first time Grantaire spots him, he's in the living room, curled up in one of the armchairs - Grantaire doesn't want to think like that, no, even though the image gives him butterflies and all that shit, but that corner is pretty much _their corner_ now. Whenever they are in the living room, Enjolras sits on one of the chairs and occupies the small coffee table and Grantaire doesn't mind at all because (1) he gets to watch Enjolras, and (2) he's always curling up and sketching when the notebook on his lap anyway.

He doesn't comment on it, of course, he doesn't want Enjolras to think that he's happy over the fact Enjolras is reading his book, but he gives Enjolras teasing looks whenever Enjolras looks up to him when the book in hand.

Grantaire thinks their relationship is easier because they don't argue like crazy anymore. Grantaire has to stay sober most of the time. Well, he’s forced to stay sober becasue of the declining frequency of liqiour store trips. And he knows that there is hardly something to argue over when they don't really talk about things. It's still something.

But when they all realise it's almost Christmas, things get bad.

Courfeyrac gathers everyone in the basement, even Grantaire, and tells them that it's almost Christmas and they still come up with a plan. Grantaire doesn't get what he's talking about until he starts to show them some part of the city with homeless people.

"This is a part we've never done before," he says. "I think we should go for it."

"You are going to the city?" Grantaire blinks, and suddenly Enjolras has his eyes on him.

"We need to. It’s Christmas." Enjolras looks like he's on the edge, which Grantaire has no idea why. But from the spark in his eyes, he could easily tell that he's about to explode if anyone says something wrong. Grantaire tries to take his eyes off him.

"Every Christmas we carry gift bags to homeless people." Joly explains. "Nothing too big because there are too many of them, and we don't have that much money. But we always make nice sandwiches, and Feuilly picks up coffee for them. Jehan tries to knit as much as he can, so we include that with shoes because it's hardest to find nice shoes in the winter."

Grantaire raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth, but Enjolras snaps even before he gets a word out.

"And we _know_ that we can't help everyone, but it's nice to try at least."

"That's not what I was going to say." Grantaire has to bite his tongue or he's going to snap. "I just thought you were undercover."

"We are. But we can't skip this."

"Are you sure about it?" he asks. From the way Enjolras's shoulders get tense, he's sure that he's about to scowl at Grantaire for being a selfish and heartless prick. "It's not that I don't support this act. Which I do, really. But if this is something you do every Christmas, don't you think police might notice it and set something up this time?"

"They might." Combeferre joins them, pushing his glasses back to his eyes. "You got a point, R, a good one, but I don't think we should let this scare us. We know the risks already. That doesn't mean we should stop helping people."

Grantaire nods, because he understands. But he also knows that's going to be dangerous and hard as fuck. He doesn't have as much as experience as they do about stuff like this but he at least know they are dealing with homeless people and not all of them are poor needy people. There is also people like Eponine's parents, who pretend to be homeless to get help. And well, if any of them read the papers, or if they are even smart enough to remember last time, Grantaire has no doubts that they'll contact the police to exchange the information for something - money, shelter, anything.

"When do we start planning?" he asks anyway, rubbing his face.

Enjolras, once again, frowns at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well I want to help on this one."

"No-"

"I don't think Courf would have called me if he didn't want my help." Grantaire snaps, slowly losing his temper.

"He's right, Enjolras. This is nothing too dangerous. Grantaire might help if he's willing to do it," Courfeyrac smiles at Grantaire, a comforting smile but it doesn't really work on him.

"Which I am," he says dryly.

"You are not one of Les Amis," Enjolras says. "You can help making the sandwiches if you want, or help Jehan knit, or help Bossuet and Courfeyrac put everything in packs, I don't care. But you're not coming to the city with us."

"It's not even dangerous-" Courfeyrac tries again, because he is just a sweet guy like that, but Grantaire rolls his eyes.

"Don't bother, Courf. Enjolras clearly thinks that I'm not good enough for your cool guy club."

Enjolras winces, looking like he's trying to hold back something. "It's not about that. You are not one of-"

"You, _I know_. Do I really need to sign papers or something to help people on Christmas day? It's just giving bags to people, dammit, you don't believe I'm capable of doing that?!"

"If you'd care about people too much, you'd already do something before."

"Oh fuck you, Enjolras." Grantaire loses his temper finally, he's not surprised by the fact that it didn't last really long anyway. He tried to keep himself calm but it's really hard when Enjolras is being an impossible ass and clearly asking for trouble.

"Enjolras might be right, R."

"I didn't expect you to be on my side anyway Combeferre," he snaps but even though he can be exteremly scary, Combeferre is much better keeping calm than Enjolras or himself, so he just sighs.

"It's nothing to do with taking sides," he explains. "If you come with us - I mean, think that as a mission, okay? If you come with us and something goes wrong, if they get any information about you, knowing that you're with Les Amis, it'll change your life."

"We already had this conversation and you already agreed to stay here-" Because, seriously, Grantaire gets sick of that kind of excuse now.

"This is different. There is a chance that police will show up, as you said. What do you think would happen if they arrest you or something?"

"Oh, don't tell me you've never been arrested."

"I have been." He continues to be calm, and it makes Grantaire angrier. "But we always get away with it in the end. Or we know what we'll get before we start the mission. It's different now. They have Enjolras's picture. Not a great one, but they can do more with less. And if any cameras caught you with Enjolras when you were at the station, it's gonna get bad for you. We can't let that happen."

Grantaire looks around at everyone. No one argues with Combeferre now, not even Courfeyrac, and Grantaire tries not to feel offended by that. He just shakes his head, leaving the basement and making sure that he slammed the door. Before anyone can follow him, he's out of the house with only a coat thrown over him. He doesn't know what to do for a second or two, but he lets his feet drag him away before he can decide. Expectedly, he ends up in the Musain.

"Are you out of your mind?" Eponine welcomes him with a frown. "You went out like this? What's the matter with you? Do you want to get frostbite?"

"You sound like Joly," he drawls, letting himself climb on one of the armchairs. He's surprised when Eponine doesn't scowl him to get his feet off the armchair.

"What's the matter?" she says instead, coming over and sitting across him.

"Nothing," Grantaire lies, but of course Eponine knows better. They spent all their school years together, lying to each other about family stuff—everything was good at home, why wouldn't it be, and, no, that wasn't a bruise under his eye. Eponine knows him better than most people - no, better than anyone, and Grantaire doesn't know how he'll explain everything without revealing any delicate information. It's not that Eponine wouldn't keep his secret, but it’s not his secret to give.

"Come on, R, you show up here in this weather looking completely pissed off and expect me to believe that nothing happened between you and your little criminal group of friends?"

"They are not cri-" Wait. He looks up and frowns, confused. "What?"

"I know you are hiding Les Amis."

"Shh!" Grantaire hushes her and looks around, his frown gets deeper. "How do you-"

"Relax, we’re alone," Eponine decides to take pity on him and brings him a coffee to warm him up. Grantaire isn't sure if this is pity, because he hates her for saying something like that and then leaving him alone for a fucking cup of coffee, but she's back soon enough. "I know because I heard you guys talking," she continues, leaning back. "No, actually I heard you shouting at each other with Enjolras, and you were just lucky no one else was there to hear."

"Fuck." Grantaire sighs, slumping in his armchair and closes his eyes. That's the last thing he needs.

"It's fine. I don't know why you are giving a shit or anything about Les Amis but tell me what's bothering you without details so I’ll stop worrying about your desperate ass."

Grantaire gives her a glare, but relaxes. Finally, he has someone to bitch about Les Amis to. Not that Courfeyrac and Bahorel are bad at this bitching thing, but they’ve been friends with Enjolras since forever.

So Grantaire tells Eponine about their Christmas plan and how they don't want Grantaire to get involved - no, _Enjolras_ doesn't want Grantaire to get involved.

"I know I'm not one of them," he clarifies before anything else. "But I want to help, Ponine. I mean, yeah, at first I was just covering for them because why not, you know? I have a place to stay, and they didn't have that much of a choice, and I wanted to do something nice for once." He doesn't mention how impossible it is not to offer this when Enjolras is in that group. "But now I want to help - not because I'm into their stupid naive ideas, but because they’re my friends, and I know that they need as many men as they can find to support them. And hell, I'm willing to support them, but Apollo refuses to take the stick out of his ass and-"

"Hey." Eponine grins. "I thought you had a crush on him."

Grantaire doesn't question how Eponine can know that, but he brushes it away. "I mean, if they are taking the risk, then I can take it too." He finishes the coffee Eponine brought him, grimacing because it's already cold and bitter. "He just doesn't want me in. I don't know why he's still here, really. He hates me."

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you. I mean, okay, the guy has a stick up his ass," she says, a teasing smile on her lips. "But I'm sure that's for your own good. They’ve got a point, you know, if anyone spots you with them, then you're stuck with them for life."

"Well it's not like I have anything better to spend my life doing," Grantaire says bitterly.

"R, are you serious?" Eponine frowns. "You are actually considering becoming one of them?"

"I..." He makes a frustrated noise because seriously, he doesn't know. All he knows is that over weeks he's grown fond of the group and now he just wants to help. Because they're his friends. And that feels different because Grantaire is not capable of keeping people around him for too long. They never want to stick around him for too long. Grantaire can't blame them because even he doesn't want to be around himself for too long. And there is also this all Enjolras thing going on inside of him, which he's still not sure what's that's exactly. He knows there is something but he can't clarifies. "I don't know." He finally admits to Eponine. "Right now all I know is Enjolras tries to push me out and I hate it because he's the only one who wants me out."

Or maybe he is not. Maybe they really just care about the shelter Grantaire offers them. Like, why wouldn't it be true? Grantaire is obviously not the man of the year. He can't remember anyone who was ever fond of him in all his life - except Eponine but that's hardly being fond. He knows Eponine cares about him and everything, but they were apart for so long during Grantaire's college years and his visits to the city. Maybe he just lets things carry his mind away when he's obviously the useless shit, and that's probably why Les Amis don’t want him around. Because he's just useless and not capable of taking responsibility, and clearly he wouldn't be more than a burden for them if he joins them.

Eponine notices the way Grantaire looks and actually scowls. "Get your shit together, R, thinking like that won't bring any help."

"When was my shit ever together?" he snaps and refuses to accept the urge to run away from Eponine too. She's the only comfort Grantaire has, even though he hates to admit that he needs comfort.

He stays over until the evening and helps Eponine take care of a few customers who are crazy enough to stop by in this weather. Helping means stealing from Eponine's alcohol stash - which she's perfectly aware of but keeps her mouth shut, and Grantaire couldn't be more grateful - and sketch on her commission pad. He also teaches her how to mix a few drinks that might be useful in the summer when the town is crowded with people from the city. Eponine of course knows how to do it herself, but Grantaire is much more experienced, and he teaches her some tricks he learned when he was in the city.

When the sun goes down, Eponine decides to close early and asks for his help putting the Christmas decorations up. Which is nothing either of them are fond of because holidays only mean that Grantaire will get drunk enough to forget his own name. He's never celebrated them, and he knows Eponine doesn’t either. Even though she gives more shits than Grantaire does, it's not like her parents are the best about celebrating days like that. Grantaire stays with Eponine sometimes to have dinner together during holidays, but Eponine hushes him away when he starts to get drunk.

Decorations are up in no time and it's only then that Eponine snaps at Grantaire for not picking his phone up for the fifth time that day.

"Are you going to stop acting like a teenager and actually answer that phone?" she asks.

He has two missed (ignored) calls from Jehan, one from Combeferre, and the rest are from Courfeyrac. Including texts. He doesn't want to deal with them when he's not drunk enough. "Let me buy you a few drinks,” he says instead of answering her, shoving the phone into his pocket.

"If I didn't know you were gay, I'd think that you’re trying to get into my pants. Offering drinks after helping me out and all that." Eponine sighs, but she's smiling, so that's a good sign. They close up completely and go to the pub they used to hang out at when they were in highschool - because the owner didn't give a fuck about their ages as long as they paid.

They spend the night drinking - mostly Grantaire, because Eponine has work the next morning - and talking about this and that. He relaxes, letting the alcohol take control over him. He's never totally lost when he gets drunk. Because there is a difference between being drunk and being _drunk_. Grantaire doesn't let himself get _drunk_ drunk. That card is reserved for the shittiest situations.

Going home makes him feel uncomfortable, even though it's so late everyone is probably asleep but Enjolras and Combeferre. Maybe Courfeyrac, sexting in the bed. He doesn't really want to deal with any of them and decides it's better if he crashes in the living room again to claim the couch. It won't be any better to deal with them when he's sober, but he doesn't want to do it now, really. But as he reaches the door, it turns out that he doesn't have the key to let himself in, and it's really cold.

The door, surprisingly, opens after a few minutes as Grantaire tries to figure out what to do.

"Waited up for me, Apollo?" Grantaire says bitterly and ignores the way Enjolras looks at him and pushes him aside to let himself in.

"Are you drunk?" Enjolras asks, following him inside as he locks the door again.

Grantaire laughs bitterly, mocking. "Like you expected anything else."

"Well since you're an adult, I expected you to deal with things without help of alcohol."

"Surprise surprise, I'm hardly capable of doing that."

He goes to the kitchen, stumbles mostly. But when Enjolras takes his elbow to help him, even though it gives him shivers, he shrugs him off. "I don't need help."

"That's obvious," Enjolras says dryly.

"Why the worry, Apollo? Are you scared that I got drunk and spilled all of your secrets?"

"That's completely beside my concern."

"Sure."

Enjolras takes a glass before Grantaire can and fills it with water for him. Grantaire takes the drink and lights a cigarette, sitting on one of the chairs.

"You know getting drunk won't solve your problems."

And there it is. Grantaire is just glad that he wasn't naive enough to believe Enjolras would shut his mouth about the situation anyway.

"It’s helped perfectly fine in the past," he drawls, drawing a breath from his cigarette and pretending like he doesn't notice the way the leader's eyes linger on his mouth for a moment. He's drunker than he realises and is imagining things. It’s happened before, after all.

"It's hardly helping now." Enjolras takes the chair opposite to him, and Grantaire just wonders why he doesn’t leave him alone like people normally do. "You can't drink away your problems, Grantaire."

"No, but I can tell them to fuck off, and that’s exactly what I'm going to do right now. _Fuck off_."

Enjolras doesn't seem bothered by Grantaire's attitude, which pisses Grantaire off more than anything else. "I thought it would be better to talk about this morning than running away from it."

"No, running away is the perfect thing to do."

"Grantaire."

"Don't fucking _Grantaire_ me," he snaps, finishing the cigarette and killing it in the sink, still stumbling. "I won't deal with this shit now. You might not notice, but hearing you talk about how incapable I am of dealing with my problems without alcohol or how not good enough I am to join your fucking stupid group is not my favorite choice of activity right now."

"I never said-"

"Oh drop it, Enjolras, will you?"

Grantaire doesn't need to stay and look at the face Enjolras gives him after hearing his name from Grantaire, not the nickname. So he doesn't. He takes the glass Enjolras put on the table for him, not because he's grateful or anything, but because if he doesn't drink something now, he'll regret it terribly in the morning.

Courfeyrac is asleep or pretends to be, because he doesn't say anything nor does he open his eyes when Grantaire stumbles his way upstairs – which is a little hard but nothing impossible. He tries not to think about the arguments he had today, instead focusing on the dizzy feeling in his brain and letting sleep claim him.

*

He jerks away when something cold presses against his forehead. "What the fuck?"

When he opens his eyes, he curses again because the sunlight is so sharp and bright. Grantaire takes a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the light and tries not to think about the way his head hurts. He's not alone in the room, he notices. Courfeyrac sits on his own bed, and Joly hovers over Grantaire.

"Good morning," Joly says. The cold thing happens to be his hand, and it's still on Grantaire's forehead.

"Fuck off." Grantaire pushes his hand away and glares, tries to sit up and rubs his face.

"Someone is moody." Courfeyrac teases and earns another glare from Grantaire.

"Why are you bothering me so early?"

"It's not early. It's noon." Joly shoves a plate onto his lap. "Eat."

"It doesn't matter if - what's this?" He's confused, looking up at Joly. It's actually just an omelette and a cup of orange juice - which Grantaire had no idea that they had - and a slice of bread.

"It's lunch."

"Consider it breakfast." Courfeyrac grins again, and Grantaire wants to throw a shoe at him.

"I don't want a fucking breakfast." He groans at the pain in his head, which gets worse when he talks. "I want painkillers."

"I know you want painkillers. I have painkillers. But the only way I'm going to give them away is if you finish this plate. I'm not going to feed you pills with an empty stomach and give you stomach burn."

Joly leaves them alone after shaking a bottle of pills in front of Grantaire's eyes, which Grantaire wants nothing more than to grab them. He sighs and leans back, pulling the plate closer.

"So you’re always grumpy when you're hungover?" Courfeyrac puts the phone aside - Grantaire could tell he was playing Candy Crush from the sounds - and looks at Grantaire properly. Grantaire, of course, knows that he looks like shit. He's hungover, damn it, what are they expecting from him? Waking up at six a.m and going for a run?

"What's this all about?" he asks finally, when he decides Courfeyrac doesn't deserve to being scowled at. Which Grantaire doesn't think is something Courfeyrac isn't used to since he's friends with Enjolras.

Just the thought of Enjolras brings the anger back to Grantaire. He remembers yesterday’s arguments vividly. He closes his eyes, remembering how much he didn't want to deal with this.

"It's just Joly," Courfeyrac says, but he's not sure if he's lying or not. "He has this weird tradition to bring you breakfast when you’re hungover, and he doesn't give you the pills until you’ve eaten everything he gives you."

"How does he even know I'm hungover?" Grantaire complains, using the fork to cut his omelette, shoving half of it in his mouth. The quicker the better.

"Are you serious, R? Do you have any idea how much you smell like alcohol? I'm surprised at myself that I could actually sleep."

"He shouldn't have to give a fuck." He sighs and sips the orange juice, liking the cold feeling down to his chest. He feels like his stomach is on fire.

"You’re our friend," Courfeyrac says, but Grantaire snorts. This is probably one of the rare times that he’s actually seen a frown on Courfeyrac's face. "Are you seriously pissed at us because of what Enjolras says?"

"I'm not pissed at anyone." Of course that's a lie, and both of them know it.

"Come on, R."

Grantaire keeps his eyes on the tray, so he'll glare at the empty plate instead of Courfeyrac. "I can't blame anyone because you don't want my help."

"We want it. Even Enjol-"

"Are you seriously going to defend your best friend to me, now, Courf?" He finally looks up to him, but he used his nickname, and Courfeyrac also seems to notice that because he's smiling again.

"I'm not defending Enjolras," he says. "I know he's stubborn as fuck. I'm not going to tell what's he's actually up to or something. I just want you to know everyone considers you as a friend, and we were really worried yesterday. Especially when you didn't pick up your damn phone."

Grantaire doesn't feel like eating anymore, because he already ate more than he usually does whenever he has a hangover, which is nothing. He sets the tray aside and sits up, shaking his head - and realises this is a very, very wrong move. "None of you have to pretend like you care."

"Oh fuck you, R." Courfeyrac rolls his eyes. "Of course we do care about you. We're friends, aren't we? That's what friends do."

"Does it? I didn't have the chance to have many friends before, spare me if I'm wrong." Even though it's meant to sting, it's actually true, and he knows Courfeyrac knows that as much as Grantaire does.

He doesn't let the conversation carry on, and he excuses himself to the bathroom because he actually smells really, really bad. It's hard not to think about what Courfeyrac said while he showers. About the fact that everyone cares about him and they're friends. Because seriously, he doesn't know what to think. He knows that he's maybe overreacting - not about Enjolras, of course, but about everyone else. But accepting them as his friends while Enjolras clearly doesn't want him in the group is going to blow up in his face, one way or another. He was maybe too blind to see this before the argument, but it seems clear now.

Joly takes pity and gives Grantaire the pills after he leaves the shower. He even gives him another one to make his sleep easy, but Grantaire saves that one for later and takes a nap. Enjolras seems like he’s locked himself in the basement, because Grantaire doesn't see him around all day. He wonders if that's Enjolras's own choice or if someone else made him do it. Jehan stops by once, asking if there's anything he needs, and Grantaire says he's been an alcoholic for years, he can manage a simple hangover by himself, thank you very much.

Feuilly takes care of dinner that evening. Apparently, he has a special recipe for meatballs but he only does them on special occasions - Courfeyrac complains. Grantaire wonders what the special occation is, but he doesn't feel like eating, so he stays in his room and paints instead. This time it's hard to paint, because he still feels like a truck rolled over him, his throat sore and eyes heavy. He tries to finish one of the paintings he's doing for commission due next week, but it's impossible to work on that since it's just a landscape and makes Grantaire sleepy rather than anything else.

He changes the canvas to a blank watercolour paper when there is a knock on his door. He's not looking up when he lets the person in, working free style on the paper and wondering how this is going to end up because he doesn't have something particular in mind.

"May I?"

Grantaire startles at the voice, which without a doubt belongs to Enjolras. He fights with the urge and doesn't look up, though his hand pauses for a moment or two, but he quickly recovers and continues his job.

"You know when I say you can come in, that means _you may_ ," he says, there is no anger in his voice, nor does he try to sting. He's surprised and also proud of himself for it, even though he knows that's silly.

There is a silence that sends itches to Grantaire's spine, but he manages to keep his eyes on the paper as he draws. Enjolras closes the door behind him.

"We are having dinner," Enjolras says in a careful voice, testing the waters.

"What are we now? Each other's bellman?" Grantaire mocks, though there is no sort of amusement in his tone nor on his face. He hears Enjolras sigh.

"Courfeyrac insists that I should apologise."

"Nonsense." He rolls his eyes. Enjolras doesn't argue.

"I know. I didn't say anything wrong to apologise."

"Right."

"But have I upset you?"

Grantaire can't help himself. He drops the pencil and looks up to Enjolras, completely ignoring the way his stomach twists as he sees the golden curls frame his puzzled expression. He laughs. "You are not good at this dealing with people's emotions thing, are you?" This time the amusement reaches his eyes, and he's surprised at the way how easily Enjolras gets him to forget about his anger with just one look at that stupidly angelic face.

He’s aware that _he's really fucked up._

Enjolras huffs, looking embarassed but trying to hide it. "I had no intentions of upsetting you. But even if you are upset, that doesn't change the fact I still stand behind my words. I still think it's dangerous, and I still think that you shouldn't come with us."

"Since when did you start to care about my wellbeing, Apollo?" He rolls his eyes. "It's also dangerous for you. Your picture was in the papers. You’re the one who's in great danger, not me."

"I cut my hair," Enjolras says, frowning when Grantaire flashes a smile.

" _I_ cut your hair," he reminds him. "Do you think changing your hair is enough to forget a face like yours? I doubt it."

Enjolras's expression is purely saying _be serious_ , but Grantaire doesn't let the grin leave his face, feeling his mood lift. And it's stupid. He feels like a teenager talking to his crush.

"Anyhow, I'm the leader of this group."

"If you’re going to give me the 'you are not one of us' speech again, I will seriously consider kicking you out. And that’s not an expression." Grantaire’s grin disappears.

"No, look. I believe in this cause, R, that's why I can put myself in danger for what I believe. But as you mentioned several times, you have nothing to put your belief in. Why would you put yourself in danger just because you want to help? This is not a game, this is not fun. This is serious, really really serious."

Grantaire is silent for a moment. He wants to say, _No, you idiot, you’re wrong, I put my belief in you, and that’s enough to put myself in danger, even more_ , but he keeps his mouth shut, trying to figure out what to say. He's not stupid, he gets Enjolras's point, he knows what he means, and he's not at all wrong. What he doesn't get is what Grantaire can't dare to say.

"My friends are enough reason to put myself in danger." He picks his words carefully, watching Enjolras's expression. "That's what we are, aren't we? You said that, Apollo, not me. You said I was your friend. And I have a bunch of other friends who'll be in equal danger. And hell, you know this is not even dangerous. I don't want to join one of those big events. I don't want to join you when you are breaking into a fundraiser event and making a show. What I'm willing to do is join you in giving people food. What can possibly go wrong with that? Even if the police shows up, I'm sure we can find a way to get out." Enjolras listens to him silently, not protesting, and Grantaire thinks that's a good sign. When he pauses, Enjolras looks into his eyes, sending shivers to Grantaire's spine. "Maybe I'm not one of Les Amis, but I'm your friend. And I think that's a fair reason to help."

Before Enjolras can come up with a reply, the door bangs open, and Courfeyrac looks grumpy, frowning at them. "Combeferre won’t let us start until you come down. Would you finally do us the honour, _please_?"

Feuilly's meatballs turn out to be heavenly, and Grantaire can finally understand why Courfeyrac complains about this being a special occasion thing. No one says what the special occasion is, but Grantaire thinks he knows. This is about what Courfeyrac said, about being friends. This is a silent and very delicious way to show Grantaire that he's their friend, and they don't give a fuck if Grantaire doesn't believe it.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire gets confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you all again for hits and kudos. I'd also like to thank my amazing beta captainbuckybarnes. Enjoy. :)

Eponine is the one who decides what kind of present Grantaire will get for Les Amis. He knows that he has to get something, because everyone seems really excited about Christmas- except Enjolras and Feuilly. Grantaire saw Jehan knitting stockings for them, and Courfeyrac had a list of gift ideas for everyone. Hell, even Bahorel is excited, Grantaire heard him talking with Joly about what he was getting for Feuilly.

Besides the excitement for their own Christmas, everyone was also involved with the preparation of the Christmas bags they’ll deliver. Grantaire knows Enjolras and Combeferre inspect statistics and calculate numbers in the basement every single day. Jehan knits beanies and scarves. He tries to teach Grantaire, but Grantaire sucks at it, leaving holes in most of them. He still tries to learn though, because Jehan enjoys teaching him, laughing when Grantaire misses loops Joly and Bossuet order supplies for sandwiches, and Bahorel carries their boxes. Grantaire draws on the empty paper bags- the ones that they'll give to people: Christmas decorations, Santa, deer, or a Christmas tree, and writes some good wishes on them, which he copies from Christmas Cards he’d found online.

Grantaire mentions gifts to Eponine on a Thursday. The snow melted days ago, and even though it's still freezing, everyone is sick of being home all the time again. Grantaire thought it would be better if he went by early, just to make sure Thenardier isn’t around. He gives shivers to Grantaire, whenever he is around them and Grantaire feels like he has to watch his every word, even when it’s nothing suspicious. But Eponine said that he went to the city to celebrate Christmas with their mother. Which is a lie that they both know. He probably left because he didn't want to spend money on gifts for Eponine and Gavroche.

"Do you have to give them something?" Eponine asks him, cleaning the glasses behind the counter, and Grantaire sits on it and helps her dry them.

"Yes, because I'm pretty sure they’re getting me something." He sighs. "But I don't have enough money."

"Why don't you paint something for them?" she offers. "You know, it'll be like you wanted to do something special for them."

"I don't know when they’re leaving," Grantaire admits. "And I don't know. If they have to leave in a hurry, paintings won't be the first thing they’ll worry about."

Eponine hums and finishes the glasses, moving to spoons instead. "Well," she says. "You can buy a bunch of those wood keychains and paint on them."

He knows they would probably like if Grantaire did something like that. Especially Jehan and Courfeyfac. Flowers for Jehan, ship model for Feuilly- because he knows Feuilly likes to make them, something technical for Combeferre, maybe a tiny laptop or smart phone. "The problem is," He frowns. "I don't think I can paint on such small things."

"Of course you can." She rolls her eyes. "You could paint on a bug."

Grantaire finds it hard not to smile at Eponine. She's not the most optimistic girl ever, but at least she always believes in Grantaire.

"I'll try," he says. That would be the best option he has.

The meeting goes smoothly, it’s mostly Combeferre sharing some numbers with them and asking Jehan how many scarves or beanies he has so far and other details. In the end, they end up hanging out more than actually meeting. Courfeyrac seems to like the Christmas decorations and beams when he hears that Grantaire helped Eponine with them.

"Where are our decorations though?" he asks. "We need to put decorations in the house."

"Yeah, let's put red ribbons in Enjolras's hair," Grantaire suggests, grinning when Enjolras spares him a glare. He raises his bottle in a salute, and he thinks that the corner of Enjolras's mouth twitch but it's hard to tell from the distance.

"I can do that," Jehan offers. "It would be better if it was still long though, but I'm sure I can figure something out."

"We should also put some lights around his head, you know," Combeferre offers and Enjolras looks so betrayed that everyone laughs.

"We don't have to do that, he's already shining bright," Grantaire tells to himself, though obviously it's not quiet enough. Everyone looks at him. Courfeyrac grins as Joly and Bossuet “Aww”, and the rest laugh. Except Enjolras, who just watches Grantaire. Their eyes meet, and there is a spark in Enjolras's eyes that sends shivers down Grantaire's spine. He has no idea what the hell it is.

"Nobody is putting anything on my head," the red leader speaks. His eyes are on the group now, and Grantaire feels like breathing again.

They call the night off early and walk back home in different groups and paths again. Even though everyone has settled in just fine, they still try to be as careful as possible. Otherwise Combeferre would skin them. Grantaire stays behind and waits for everyone to leave before he cleans the tables and collects the cups from the tables, so Eponine won't have so much trouble.

"What are you doing?" She scowls when she comes upstairs.

"Helping you?" Grantaire frowns. Eponine is not the kind of person who would turn down help.

"When your Apollo is waiting for you downstairs?" She raises an eyebrow.

"What?"Grantaire leaves everything on the table, ignores a cup rolling dangerously to the edge. He walks to the window, frowning when he sees the familiar golden curls. "Why is he waiting?"

Eponine nudges him toward the stairs, throwing his coat at him. "Go and find out, dumbass." She rolls her eyes.

Grantaire gives her a kiss on the cheek- which Eponine punches him on the arm for - and pulls on his coat. He hurries down the stairs and stops by the counter to leave some cash to cover his drinks before he joins Enjolras outside.

"Ready to go?" Enjolras looks at him, hugging his coat because of the cold. It's the same red one he wore the first day they met. It looks more like an autumn coat more than winter, but Enjolras seems to be very fond of it.

"I thought you were leaving with Combeferre." Grantaire says, trying not to sound like he had been watching Enjolras at earlier meetings. He starts to lead the way. Maybe not toward the quickest path.

Enjolras shrugs his assumption off, following him silently for a while. "I finished the book," He looks at Grantaire. "The one about revolutions."

Grantaire has a hard time not to roll his eyes, since that's the only book he gave Enjolras. "Oh? How did you like it?"

"It was very informative," Enjolras states. His steps are easy and in rhythm with Grantaire's steps. "I like the way how it goes deeper into the June Rebellion of 1832. You don't hear many details about the society during that rebellion."

Grantaire shrugs. "I recall getting angry when reading that part. It wasn't planned very neatly. Childish, some might say."

It takes him a few steps to realise that Enjolras is not beside him.He's standing behind Grantaire, with a surprised expression on his face, watching him.

"What?" Grantaire asks, blinking. He hopes that's not about the fact that he called the June rebellions childish.

"Did _you_ read that book?"

Grantaire flashes a grin. "What, Apollo, you didn't know that I could read?"

Enjolras pulls himself together quickly and catches up with Grantaire as they start to walk again. "It's just surprising."

"One of my professors made me read it back in college. It's not like I had any other choice. I liked it, though. The fact that I don't support the idea doesn't mean I don't like to read about it."

"You went to college?" Enjolras sounds surprised. Grantaire can't help but laugh.

"You didn't?"

"Of course I did." He scowls, not like the usual ones. It's impossible to imagine Enjolras not going to college anyway. "I had no idea that you went to college."

"Well you never asked, Apollo, did you?" Grantaire smiles this time, with a hint of tease. Enjolras's eyes lingers on Grantaire. He doesn't know what's gotten into Enjolras tonight, but he doesn't complain. That means he can also watch Enjolras as much as he wants, and with the moonlight tonight, he looks impossibly beautiful.

"No, I didn't," Enjolras agrees finally, frowning- mostly to himself. Grantaire stays silent, taking a deep breath from the cool night and trying to wake his senses. He's not drunk, but he had enough drinks to feel a little dizzy. Enjolras doesn't talk either,trapped in deep thoughts.

"So what did you study?" Enjolras asks a couple minutes later.

Grantaire makes a face, doesn't sure if he wants to tell. Because Enjolras already looks so surpised by the fact that Grantaire is educated. Enjolras rolls his eyes and gives him a look, like he expects the answer. "Philosophy," he sighs. "I also had classes from history and art history."

"Philosophy?" Enjolras hums.

"Who would think, right?" Grantaire drawls. "Courfeyrac laughed his ass off when he heard."

"Wait, Courfeyrac knows?"

Grantaire laughs again, because Enjolras is impossible. "Just because you can't stand me doesn't mean no one else can, Apollo."

"I never said I can't stand you."

"Oh really? Sorry, I didn't realise because you were too busy scowling at me." He grins and nudges Enjolras.

"I only scowl at you when you are drunk-arguing me."

"Considering I'm always drunk..."

"Yes, doesn't make things easy for any of us."

This time it's Grantaire who stands in the middle of their way and Enjolras is quicker about noticing it.

"What did I say?" He gives Grantaire a tired sigh. "Seriously, R, I'm sure I didn't say anything offensive this time. Combeferre tries to teach me all this think-before-you-speak nonsense."

Even though he shudders to think that Enjolras actually tries not to argue with Grantaire, he still finds it amusing enough to make fun of. He doesn't, though, because his mind is stuck on something else. "You want things to be easy for us?"

Enjolras looks surprised. "Why wouldn't I?"Grantaire just gives him a look, and Enjolras gets the message, rolling his eyes. "You are actually quite entertaining when you aren’t drunk-arguing me and insulting my ideas."

"I never insult your ideas," Grantaire says, aware of the fact that they still stand in the middle of the road but he doesn't care. "I challenge them."

"Sure." Enjolras gives him a smile. Grantaire blinks, a couple times actually, and his smile melts into a frown. "Are you okay, R?" He takes a step closer.

"Yeah, yeah." Grantaire takes a deep breath, shaking his head. "Just a couple drinks, feeling dizzy now." It's not completely a lie, because even though it's cold as hell, that smile makes him dizzy. It's a real, warm smile from Enjolras. How did they even come to the point that they stand on the road and stupidly smile at each other?

"Let me." Enjolras offers his arm and supports Grantaire, leading him to walk again.

"This way," Grantaire says, grateful that his voice is not shaking or anything. He tries to ignore Enjolras's heat against his side, where their bodies brush together as they move. "So what else did you like in the book?"

Rest of their walk is filled with Enjolras's babbling about the book, and Grantaire is not at all complaining. He listens to Enjolras speaking as Enjolras lets him lead the way and doesn't let go of Grantaire until they reach home.

*

Combeferre informs Grantaire that it's probably best to let Courfeyrac do anything he wants, or it'll just get worse. That's the only reason Grantaire keeps his mouth shut and watches Courfeyrac and Jehan put the Christmas decorations up–he has no idea where they found all of this stuff, because he's pretty sure he has no such decorations. Bahorel brings a real fucking tree, and everyone gathers around to decorate it. The result is the ugliest Christmas tree Grantaire's ever seen. Yet it's his first Christmas tree, and it's their work, and he can't help the warmness spreading in his chest. He hopes no one notices when his eyes lingers on the tree for too long.

He's surprised when Enjolras joins him in the kitchen as he smokes, trying to recover from all that decoration mess.He raises an eyebrow at the red leader as he walks in. It's Sunday, so it's been two days since their walk home from the Musain, and this is the only time they’ve been alone since then. Grantaire tries to finish one commission before it's too late, so he can spare his time for Christmas presents he's going to prepare for his friends -he always ignores the way that word makes him feel - and he also wants time to help with the Amis’ project. Enjolras doesn't comment when he sees Grantaire in the basement now, only giving him a look and going back to his work, typing or reading. Though Grantaire caught him looking completely blankly at the screen a couple times, but he has no idea why.

Enjolras holds out his hand, a silent request, and Grantaire hands the cigarette over. That's not the first time they shared one, but it still sends different kinds of shivers to Grantaire. He watches as Enjolras draws a breath in, humming as he exhales. He doesn't smoke, Grantaire thinks, but he sometimes takes a few breaths when someone else is smoking around him.

"I need your help," he says, brushing some of his curls away from his face. It takes too much effort not to groan, because it's like he's doing it on purpose, damn it. At least Grantaire knows it's not on purpose. Because that's just impossible.

"Wow." Grantaire flashes a grin, his eyebrows goes up, dangerously close to his hairline. "Mighty Apollo needs help? My help?"

Enjolras rolls his eyes as he hands the cigarette over, though he doesn't look like he's bothered with the tease. "I need you to take me to that book shop you took Jehan a couple weeks ago."

"I don't believe that you are out of reading material. That's impossible."

"I'm not," Enjolras informs him, watching him inhale. His eyes seems to linger on Grantaire’s lips and travels down to his throat. Grantaire manages not to blink. _A trick of my imagination_ , he thinks. "It's just I'm sure if I don't get everyone presents, Courfeyrac will skin me. I forgot once, and it wasn't pleasant."

"Are you telling me that you're scared of _Courfeyrac_?"

"He can be frightening."

Grantaire bursts into laughter and Enjolras sighs, crossing his arms and just waiting until he's finished.

"Are you done?" he asks. Grantaire nods, still grinning. "So are you taking me or not?"

"Oh, Apollo." Grantaire sighs, a teasing spark in his eyes. "I would take you anytime, anywhere."

Enjolras rolls his eyes at Grantaire, though there is a smile tugging on his lips and pinkness across his face, just slightly. He tells Grantaire that he's going to be back in ten minutes, and leaves the kitchen.

Fuck. He has no idea what the hell is going on between them- and no, he doesn't want to believe that something is going on, but there has clearly been a change in Enjolras's actions, and Grantaire isn't sure how to deal with it at all. It's the same Enjolras who locked himself in rooms to work and didn't care about Grantaire except when it came to arguing with him over his stupid ideas in the meetings. It's the same Enjolras who gave Grantaire disapproving looks everytime he spotted the cynic with a drink. It's the same Enjolras who doesn't want him in Les Amis, who doesn't trust him, who doesn't think Grantaire is capable of accomplishing anything. Yet, now that same Enjolras lets his eyes linger on Grantaire, gives him amused smiles, comes over to talk with him, waits for him after meetings to walk with him. Okay, that was one time, but that's beside the point. It's like Enjolras finally starts to respond Grantaire, dancing around him like Grantaire had been doing for weeks now. And Grantaire has _no fucking idea_ how to process this.

Enjolras returns before Grantaire has enough time to collect himself. He's wearing the long, black overcoat this time, not the red one. Grantaire kills his cigarette in the sink, frowning at Enjolras because looking like a statue in every clothes doesn't help Grantaire with the mess in his mind. They don't bother informing the others and leave as soon as Grantaire puts on his own gloves and coat- deep green and worn out.

Grantaire sets the pace, as last time, and Enjolras lets him, easily matching their steps.

"So you’re going to buy books for everyone?" Grantaire asks, just to break the silence. "You know they'll notice when we carry all that back to your room, especially Combeferre."

"Combeferre knows what I'm getting for everyone," Enjolras replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. "But no. I’ll just get something for Jehan. And maybe Bossuet, too. I know he's into fantasy books."

"That's not hard to guess, though." He chuckles, trying to loosen up, but the fact that their arms brush against each other doesn't help at all. "Everyone is into fantasy books."

"I'm not."

"Wha- _How_?" Grantaire blinks at Enjolras because he is ridiculous and impossible.

"I prefer real life. Much more interesting when it's real, you know."

Of course. Grantaire doubts Enjolras even watches something other than news and documentaries.

"Well, fine, but you can't say that you don't like _Lord of the Rings_ , at least."

Enjolras sighs. "I'm hearing enough from Courfeyrac about that thing, I don't need someone else to press me into reading it."

_That thing_. "You can at least watch it."

"I’d prefer not."

Grantaire rolls his eyes. "Marathon after Christmas. No arguments. I'll educate you." He hears Enjolras snort, but he doesn't say anything, agreeing silently.

It's a fifteen minute walk after that, and they both remain silent. Grantaire tries to think about art or what he’ll drink that evening, because his hands are trembling. There is no point in lying to himself; he knows it's not because of the cold. He knows it's a bad idea to focus his thoughts on alcohol instead of Enjolras, but it's either one or the other. It's not like thinking about Enjolras when he's right there will do him good.

The book shop is also decorated, but it's not clumsy like the Musain nor overdecorated like their home. It's neat and tidy, and Grantaire likes it here, not just because it has nice decorations, but because he's freezing and it's warm inside. The owner greets them with a smile, sparing them a quick chat before going back to his newspaper.

Enjolras, unlike Jehan, doesn't wander off. He makes sure Grantaire walks with him as he looks through the shelves, trying to find suitable books for his friends. Grantaire would never believe that Enjolras took a break from work to buy gifts, but since he's here and seeing it with his own eyes, there is no reason not to believe it. He's not even drunk. Unfortunately.

"Jehan has every book from Pablo Neruda already," Grantaire informs Enjolras as he leans in to pick up _Stones of the Sky_.

"How do you know?"

"How do you not know? I’ve only known him for a couple months."

"I have-"

"Better things to discuss?" Grantaire rolls his eyes. "Try William Blake." He continues before Enjolras can open his mouth and turn this into an argument. "I know Jehan likes the Romantic Era. He always says that he never got enough chances to study English poetry, especially Blake."

"Always?" Enjolras looks a little annoyed, but mostly confused (which Grantaire is smug about), and he searches for the letter B.

"I mean whenever we talk about poetry. And art. And other things that you don't care about."

"I never said I don't care about poetry and art." Enjolras scowls. "I just don't have enough time."

"Calm down, Apollo." Grantaire doesn't feel like arguing, since there is already a mess in his head and no alcohol at all. "That doesn't make you less of a friend, don't worry."

"I don't worry." Enjolras glares at him. Grantaire can deal with that, and he chuckles, just to annoy him more.

After one hour spent in the book shop with not-so-important arguments over books, Enjolras finally decides on three books. Grantaire is actually surprised to find that Enjolras listens to his suggestions and goes with Blake, Songs of Innocence and Experience for Jehan. He's also even more surprised when he says Bossuet mentioned Neil Gaiman once, and that's what they end up with for him, The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Enjolras doesn't let him look at the third book. Grantaire guesses the other books were bought just to cover that one up, but he doesn't press for an explanation.

Cold hits them again as they leave the little shop. Enjolras huffs as he hugs the books closer. "Do you wanna grab a bite?" he asks. Grantaire just stares at him for a heartbeat. "Don't look like that." Enjolras rolls his eyes, smiling smugly. "You know there'll be no lunch left for us when we get back."

That is an obvious lie, and Grantaire is sure Enjolras is aware of that. Combeferre always makes sure there is food for Enjolras when he doesn't meet them in the kitchen, so of course there'll be food left when they get back.

"Not the Musain, though, please. That place makes you want to fight me."

"Your ideas makes me want to fight you. Don't blame the Musain for your own naive mind."

For his surprise, Enjolras doesn't say anything, just hints at a smile as he once again lets Grantaire lead him. Grantaire tries hard not to show his shaky hands to Enjolras and hopes he wouldn’t notice the deep breaths Grantaire’s drawing. _Lunch with Enjolras?_ Just the two of them? And he's not even the one who's asking for it. He wants to shake Enjolras and ask if he is okay, if he hit his head or something.

He has to speak with Combeferre. Immediately.

There is a place nearthe fair. It's always too quiet and deserted in the winter, so different than in the summer. Grantaire loves that place, no matter what season it is. He likes the silence of winter and being able to shut everyone off when he needs to, but he also likes to drown himself in other people's conversations in the summer. It's a place Eponine showed him when they were just children, and they never spent a summer without going there after that.

He has no idea why he's taking Enjolras there. It's been two months since Les Amis moved in with him, and he’s never invited one of them there. But Enjolras is different. Grantaire wants to be somewhere familiar so he can tell that yes, this is real, he is not imagining that Enjolras wanted to have lunch with him. He has to know it's not at all in his mind.

Once again, Enjolras lets Grantaire lead when they are inside and looks around only when he's seated at the table Grantaire picked. He doesn't take his coat off yet, not that Grantaire is paying attention, and hums slowly.

"How come you never brought us here?" Enjolras asks casually, leaning back. "If you know my friends that well, you'd also know this a place Feuilly would like."

Grantaire keeps his eyes on the menu, but not because he wants to look at what they have, at this point he memorised everything, just beause he doesn't want at Enjolras for once. "It's not like we go anywhere other than the Musain," he says, wondering what Enjolras will understand. "And I'm sure you'd freak out if I said we should just go hang out."

"R," He doesn't have to look up to know Enjolras is rolling his eyes. "I'm perfectly capable of hanging out."

Grantaire snorts. "Sure, Apollo." He spares Enjolras a teasing glance. "So tell me, where do you usually go when you are in the city?" He asks once the waiter is done with taking their orders. Grantaire feels surprised at himself when he is not pressing for Enjolras to order something else than soup. At least he asked Grantaire that which soup is the best. _(Tomato.)_

Enjolras finally takes his overcoat off and folds up his sleeves. Fuck, Grantaire thinks. He can't help but stare.

"There's a pub Courfeyrac likes to go to." He shrugs, brings one of his hands up so he can ruffle his golden curls. Just the image of those long elegant fingers in his hair sends a shiver down to Grantaire's spine. He wants his own clumsy hands in those curls, or wants Enjolras's fingers in his own curls, a lot messier and probably harsher than Enjolras's. He tries to ignore everything and crosses his legs. Enjolras doesn't seem to care- no, notice. There's no way Enjolras is doing this on purpose, so he doesn't even notice. "He makes me go there every Friday. All of us, actually."

"That doesn't really count if Courfeyrac makes you go," Grantaire points out, proud of himself that he's still able to talk.

"Fine." Enjolras chuckles. Grantaire doesn't know what to do with this image. Ignore it? Or go home and paint it over and over until he catches the way Enjolras's mouth curls right and gets the spark in his eyes bright enough. He wouldn't even care if his hands bled. "There is a park in the same area as my flat." He says. "I like to go there and read."

Grantaire raises his eyebrows, not sure if he's more surprised with the idea Enjolras is actually sharing personal information or enjoying the nature. "Hm."

"Not exciting enough?" Enjolras rolls his eyes, his hands united together on the table.

"Not at all." Grantaire laughs. "I also like to go out and just sketch."

"And where do you go to do that?"

"I thought we were talking about you, Apollo. And if going to the park to read is what you consider hanging out," He leans forward. "I don't think you are capable of doing so."

Enjolras, unsurprisingly, gives the cynic the roll of eyes he deserves. "Very funny, R."

"I'm not even joking."

"That’s what makes you funny."

Grantaire flashes a grin. "I wasn't expecting a comeback, Apollo. You surprise me."

"Maybe I do, since you never see me coming."

Grantaire gasps, eyes wide as he looks- no, stares at Enjolras's smug face. He opens his mouth, but no voice comes out because how the hell is he supposed to answer Enjolras's flirting? Is this even flirting? Enjolras doesn't look away. Grantaire feels like five years pass before their food arrives.

They talk about the food once Enjolras tastes it, and the conversation stays in that safe zone, Grantaire notices. They talk about the town in the summer, and Grantaire tells him embarrassing stories about his highschool years. Enjolras counters them with embarassing stories about Courfeyrac. Grantaire knows he can do this, at least. Being friends with Enjolras, nothing’s wrong with that. It's easy. Well, it would've been easier if Grantaire didn't want to pull Enjolras into the restroom and suck him off, but he can deal with this. He always deals with it in the Musain.

None of them notice that it's already dinner time when they get back home. Grantaire insists on paying for lunch, since it's his hometown. He promises another lunch to Enjolras when they are both in the city, so then Enjolras can pay. Enjolras doesn't argue, to his surprise, and they walk back still talking about pretty much everything. The only matter they don't talk about is Les Amis and their projects, which Enjolras gets tense at everytime Grantaire mentions. But he knows better, so he doesn't push, and Enjolras doesn't tell.

"Where were you?" Combeferre snaps as the second they step inside. "And why don't you answer your damn phone? I was about to turn on the tracking system."

Grantaire tries not to look guilty, even though the questions are not for him. Enjolras hands his coat and shrugs. "I didn't hear it." He _lies_ , because since Grantaire heard the annoying buzzing all day; there is no way Enjolras didn't.

Combeferre, who doesn't look like he’s buying it, just glares at Enjolras. "We thought you got arrested."

Enjolras laughs, looking at Grantaire. "You might say that."

"Hey." Grantaire nudges Enjolras. "You were the one who cooperated."

There is a look on Combeferre's face that Grantaire can't say what it is exactly, but Enjolras sighs beside him. "I'm fine, Ferre. I was trying out Courfeyrac's advice."

"And how did it go?"

"... I'm not sure. Good?"

Grantaire leaves them to talk about Christmas presents, because that's obviously what they are talking about, he assumes, since Enjolras mentioned Courfeyrac's advice, and moves to the living room where Jehan braids Bahorel's hair.

"Isn't it hard?" He asks, taking the bottle from Bahorel's hand and sips the wine, but the question is for Jehan.

"What do you mean? Braiding?"

"Braiding rasta hair."

Jehan shrugs. "A little. But not impossible. So," He grins at Grantaire. "You were out with Enjolras all day." It's not a question, so Grantaire just raises an eyebrow. The poet rolls his eyes and nudges him. "Come on, R."

"Let me put it this way," Bahorel says. Grantaire is very impressed with the way he fetches the bottle back from Grantaire but doesn't even move his head so Jehan can keep braiding. "You were out with Enjolras all day, and you are both still alive. How so?"

"We assume Enjolras is alive, though," Jehan says. "Is he?"

"Oh shut up, you two." Grantaire leans back and closes his eyes.

Bahorel flicks his knee. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing."

"No harm in telling us," Jehan purrs.

"Telling you means telling everyone." Grantaire grins. "And I know you’re hiding behind the armchair, Courf. You aren’t that small, you know."

"Damn. I knew I shouldn't trust you two," says Courfeyrac. "You suck at this."

"Now silence, I'm trying to sleep."

"Go to your room." Jehan nudges him again.

"My room? Thanks for clearing that out, because I thought you were moving in with us, Jehan. You don't leave Courfeyrac's bed-"

"Hey! Our love life is none of your business." Courfeyrac defends himself.

"We don't have a love life!" Jehan grumbles.

Grantaire chuckles, eyes still closed. Even though Courfeyrac and Jehan keep bantering, all he can hear is Enjolras's low voice coming from the hallway.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little more messier between Enjolras and Grantaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the new chapter! Thank you everyone for the great support and comments and kudos. It all means a lot to me.  
> Thank you specially for my amazing beta, captainbuckybarnes. She's awesome and I couldn't do it without her.  
> And for those who wants me to update more often, I'm really trying but both me and my beta have too much school work to do. We put a lot of effort in the story, really, as much as we can. I'm hoping that I can publish two chapters next month, but no promises!

It's raining when Grantaire finds it impossible to sleep for the third time in a week. Apparently, the last couple of days spent with Enjolras weren’t good for him,since all he can do is lie in bed and let himself be haunted by Enjolras. Courfeyrac isgone, probably crashing in Jehan's room. Grantaire groans loudly in frustration because he's already so tired after spending the day painting on small pieces of wood, and all he wants to do is sleep.

After an hour of kicking the covers and growling into his pillow, the clock reads 3:43.He finally gets up, glaring at his bed like it personally offended him. He doesn't bother with the light, already knowing his way around the room - messy and filled with paintings and poetry books Jehan left earlier, looking lonely under the moonlight creeping in from the curtainless windows. It's a pity that he doesn't have any alcohol in their room. He blames Courfeyrac for that. He takesall the bottles Grantaire has in the room back to the kitchen, and Grantaire hates him for that. One time he asked why, and Courfeyrac simply told him he doesn't like the smell when he's sleeping. But of course Grantaire knows better, that Courfeyrac’s trying to make him cut down on the alcohol.

Well, it might actually work, because Grantaire is lazy and going downstairs in the middle of the night isn't his favorite thing to do, but he has no choice.He can't sleep while he's sober.

Grantaire doesn't know who turned the heat off but he makes a mental note to find out who, because it's freezing. He curses himself as he makes his way downstairs, regretting not putting on socks or anything warmer. The worn out purple shirt he's wearing is not the warmest thing, but it was a gift from Eponine. His boxers aren’t particularly warm either.

"Grantaire?"

He's trying to open a bottle of rum when he hears the sleepy, familiar voice behind him. Even though his stomach makes all kinds of weird butterfly actions, the feelings are interrupted with the sudden pain on his finger. He only realises it when Enjolras steps closer, cursing and taking Grantaire's hand to check the damage.Grantaire had jumped at his voice and let the bottle cap cut his finger.

Ittakes great self control to make himself not look at Enjolras, at his messy golden curls all around his forehead, giving the fact away that he was just in bed. The red v-neck t-shirt he's wearing looks soft, and Enjolras’s collarbone looks sharper in the moonlight.Grantaire opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish when he stares at Enjolras, trying to process the information that Enjolras is also a human, and, yes, he also looks messy when he gets up. Grantaire groans. Well, at least he's wearing something else than boxers, which is probably better for Grantaire's sanity.

"I'm sorry." There's a frown on Enjolras’s face, his eyes fixed on Grantaire's bleeding finger, apparently thinks Grantaire groaned because of the pain.

"It's fine." Grantaire sighs when Enjolras runs the water and holds his _– their–_ hands under the faucet. "Not too deep."

"What the hell are you doing up at this hour anyway?" He scowls. Grantaire rolls his eyes, snapping back to reality and pulling his hand away.

"I didn't know that I had to ask your permission to walk around my house, Apollo." He steps away from Enjolras and takes the bottle instead, taking a large sip. Rum is not his go-to drink since it's too sweet, but it was the first bottle that caught his eye. And it's still alcohol. "But if you are so curious about what I do at night–"

"It's too late for your mocking, R." Enjolras gives him a disappointed look, his eyes lingering on the bottle for a while.

"I couldn't sleep." Grantaire wiggles the bottle after another sip. "Just taking some medicine."

"It's hardly medicine." The red leader huffs.

Grantaire shrugs, deciding it's probably better not to listen to Enjolras complaining about alcohol at this hour. "Why are _you_ up? Working?"

Enjolras shakes his head and it's only then when Grantaire notices something different in Enjolras's face. He looks like he hasn’t slept for a week, dark hollows rested under his bloodshot eyes. There is a stressed line on his forehead that Grantaire hates the look of, wanting nothing more than to reach out and smooth it down. His lips tighten. "Couldn't sleep."

"You don't say." Grantaire offers him the bottle.

He's not at all surprised when Enjolras doesn't accept the offer."No, thanks, R."

Grantaire laughs because he didn't expect anything else anyway, stepping closer to Enjolras. "Come now, Apollo. If you don't want to tell what's keeping you up, at least let me cure you." He mocks, eyes searching Enjolras's face. For a moment, he thinks Enjolras is going to give in, because there is something- some expression that Grantaire can't quite name. Maybe it's a trick of the light or Grantaire is too tired to make his brain work properly, because Enjolras looks like he wants nothing more than to let Grantaire cure him.

"No." Enjolras breathes, stepping back and shaking his head. "Alcohol is not the solution, as we both know."

Grantaire makes a frustrated groan. "Sure? Because it looks like a solution to me."

"It makes you dizzy."

"It makes me sleep." He counters, taking another sip without breaking the eye contact. "And how do you help yourself to sleep?"

Enjolras glares at him. It feels different. Grantaire knows it shouldn't be, because it's Enjorlas and most of the time he just glares at Grantaire, but for a couple days, things have been so good. Now Grantaire can see the way Enjolras's mouth gets tighter, a spark flashing in his eyes like he's going to snap. He can tell when he and Enjolras gets close to arguing, and now he doesn't know what to do with that information. It's been just days, and he feels like he forgot how to argue with Enjolras.

"I wait for it to come." Enjolras speaks slowly, like he's trying to control himself.

"That doesn't work very well, does it, Apollo?" He flashes another grin, knows that he's pushing Enjolras, but he doesn't know what else to do. It's Enjolras's fault that he's up. It's his fault, his stupid images that haunt Grantaire, his stupid behavior for days that keeps him sleepless and frustrated. It's all his fault, and Grantaire wants to yell at Enjolras, to tell him everything, but he can't, and it makes him angry.

"At least I won't be hungover in the morning, when I have important things to take care of, unlike you."

Grantaire chuckles, but it's cold and it's bitter. He hates the way Enjolras's words sting him. "Oh forgive me, dear Apollo, I forgot how everyone else but you and your stupid work is worthless."

"I never called you worthless!" Enjolras frowns. Grantaire hates the way he curls his hands into fists.

"But that's what you think, isn't it?"

"Don't act like you know me-"

"Oh come on!" Grantaire laughs, doesn't care how loud he is, doesn't care if he wakes everyone in the house up. He can't deal with this. Hell, he doesn't even know what the fuck this is. Enjolras confuses him, with him, and Grantaire hates it. "Let's admit how worthless Grantaire is, how he hides behind alcohol to solve his problems! Or even admit how much you regret accepting my offer to move in, because it's all been a big fucking dissapointment!"

"I never-"

"Come on, Apollo." Grantaire dares him, his eyes burning with anger. "I thought you were greater than this! Great great Apollo, who's not a coward like poor pathectic Grantaire-"

"Are you going to fucking listen to me!" He doesn't expect it when Enjolras pushes him against the counter with all his force, dropping the bottle as his head hits the cabinet, and it hurts, but Grantaire is angry enough to open his mouth to shout. But Enjolras squeezes his hands on Grantaire's shoulders."Are you going to listen to me?" Enjolras repeats, his voice softer this time, almost a whisper.

Grantaire tries to ignore his headache, tries to ignore the broken glass around them, tries to ignore the way Enjolras looks. Like he's hurt, or lost, or both. He refuses to drop eye contact and looks into Grantaire's eyes stubbornly, having no idea how he makes Grantaire feel. Grantaire's almost glad that Enjolras doesn't loosen his grip on his shoulders. He feels like he's going to collapse if Enjorlas lets him go. He nods, very carefully, but doesn't trust himself to speak.

"I never called you worthless." Enjolras whispers, leaning in. Grantaire's breath hitches because their foreheads almost touch, but Enjolras keeps the slight distance. "I never thought you were worthless, Grantaire."

The way Enjolras says his name makes Grantaire close his eyes, shivering as he takes a deep breath. It's too much, everything is.

"But you do." Enjolras continues. "And I hate it." Grantaire looks back at him, only to see how Enjolras's curls are covering his forehead, how frustrated he looks. "There is no reason for you to hide your problems with alcohol."

Grantaire snorts, looks away from Enjolras. "There is plenty." He says dryly.

"It's not going to solve anything."

"We talked about this before, Enjolras. Maybe I don't want them to be solved," he says bitterly. He hates the way Enjolras looks after hearing that.

"Nonsense. No one is happy to have problems."

"Is that what all this is about?" Grantaire looks back at Enjolras, anger growing inside him as he puts the pieces together. "You want to help me?"

"What's wrong with that?" Enjolras snaps, still close to Grantaire, close enough to share the air they breathe.

"Every fucking thing is." Grantaire tries to push him away, but Enjolras doesn't let him, only making his grip tigther on his shoulders. "That's why you hang out with me, right? That's why you’ve been around me all the time lately because you think I'm a fucking charity case that you need to help-"

"Grantaire-"

"But I'm not, okay? I don't need your pity, I don't need your help-"

"It's not like-"

"Let me go!" Grantaire grits out, glaring at Enjolras. "Let me go, Enjolras!"

"You have to listen!"

"No! I don't, okay? I don't have to stand here and listen to your plans about making me right, because maybe I'm not made to be right. I'm a pathetic alcoholic who has no idea what to do with his life and gets frustrated with his own stupid actions. I'm not going to change just because you can't deal with the idea that you share a house with an alcoholic. You can't make everything and everyone around you perfect, Enjolras, it doesn't work like that, damn it!"

He feels Enjolras' hands slide up to his neck. He leans in, opening his mouth, but Grantaire doesn't want to hear, doesn't want to know. "Let me go." He growls instead. " _Enjolras_."

Grantaire doesn't collapse when Enjolras takes a step back, dropping his hands to his sides and looking completely lost and confused and sad, _like he can be sad_. He just watches Grantaire push himself away from the counter. Grantaire looks away, doesn't want to be haunted by the way Enjolras looks after disappointment. He already has plenty to be haunted by. He pushes Enjolras aside, grabbing the first bottle he can find and walking back to his room, not bothering with keeping silent anymore because he can see the lights under the doors.

He locks his door behind him and doesn't even bother to climb into bed as he opens the bottle of who-knows-what -it happens to be vodka, he realises after the first sip- and lets the alcohol drown his problems. Because no matter Enjolras says, that's the only way Grantaire knows how to cope.

Courfeyrac doesn't question him when he finds torn out paintings on the floor next day when Grantaire lets him in, even though they contain a dangerous amont of red paint.

*

The fight with Enjolras doesn't get unnoticed, but Grantaire doesn't expect the other way around anyway. Whenever he and Enjolras have gotten along for a moment or two, he knows that everyone waits for them to snap at any moment, so it's not really shocking news.

No one questions Grantaire when he walks around the house looking like a ghost and spending a great time in the toilet, vomiting. Joly gives him some pills to soothe his stomach, he gets a cup of tea from Jehan every evening after that, and Courfeyrac seems to ramble about light and funny things all the time when Grantaire is around. That makes him wonder how much everyone knows about that night after all. He tries not to talk toEnjolras too much, locking himself inhis room or making sure there's always someone around when they are in the same room. It seems childish, he knows, but it's not like Enjolras doesn't do the same .

Even though he tries really hard not to think about him, he finds it even harder to sleep.Painting doesn't help, because whenever he's halfway through the paintings, he always remembers the way Enjolras growled at himwith that disappointing look and how he spent days trying to make Grantaire right when Grantaire stupidly thought they meant something else. So he destroys most of the paintings and crawls into his bed covered in paint every night.

Soon enough, Christmas is two days ahead, but it's not aschaotic in the house as Grantaire expected it to be. Instead, they all know what they are supposedto do and sort the plan out together with one last meeting in the basement. No one really believed Enjolras when he said that it’s the last meeting, because he's Enjolras, basically, but they don't say anything about it either. It's the last meeting when Grantaire finds out that Marius is coming over for Christmas.

"No." Enjolras argues with Courfeyrac the second he bringsit up. He seems really stubborn about this,even though he usually agrees with Enjolras's ideas.

"He wants to come over. It's been months since we've seen each other. Do you seriously expect us to ignore him at Christmas? You know he has nowhere else to go during holidays. Besides, he's our friend, Enj."

Grantaire pretends like he's doodling on Jehan's notes, his head down as Jehan plays with his messy curls. He doesn't like to hear Enjolras's voice in that tone, the tone he knows very well.

"We also still need another car," Bahorel points out. "Nine people in a minivan with all this stuff won't end very well."

Grantaire doesn't miss the way Bahorel also includes Grantaire. Not does Enjolras, probably, but neither of them comment on it.

"After the last time, I don't think we should let Marius take a part in the action," Enjolras says, shaking his head as he talks.

"You know how sorry he is about that," Courfeyrac sighs.

"It doesn't change the fact we fucked the mission up and we're stuck here because of him."

Everyone goes still when Grantaire snaps his eyes up, dangerously silent for a moment. Enjolras turns to him a heartbeat later, his mouth is parted, like he just realised what he'd said.Grantaire gives them a bitter laugh and leaves the room without another word.

He's angry with himself more than Enjolras because he knows what Enjolras thinks about him, but he still gets upset about every comment. It was a mistake, he tells himself. It was a mistake to let Enjolras trick you into spending time together and acting like he gives a shit about you when he doesn't, because this is exactly what you are going to get afterwards. This is what happens when you get your hopes up.

He wants to leave, to go to the city, and to get wasted enough to forget his own name. (Though he's sure he wouldn't forget Enjolras’s even then.) He doesn't have enough strength to deal with all this shit. He just wants to get away, because it's too late to kick everyone out. But how could he leave when they made the plans considering Grantaire would be also in them?

Maybe having friends is not good as I thought, he thinks.

The rest of the day is spent in his room, partially working on his Christmas gifts and partially trying to keep away from everyone else. The paintings are done by the end of the day and since he's still not sleepy, so he also spends the night wrapping them up with the wrapping paper Eponine gave him after finishing her own gifts. Courfeyrac sits in the hall during the night because Grantaire refuses to let him in until he's done with everything.

"Do you think Marius can crash on the sofa?" He hears him calling from the hall.

"So he's coming for sure?"

"Of course. It's Christmas, man."

Grantaire snorts, looks at the keychain he's wrapping up. It's a little portrait of Bossuet for Joly, with a golden frame around it, and Bossuet has the exact same one but with Joly on it. "What a holy day," he mocks.

"Shut up." He can hear the grin in Courfeyrac's voice, the noises of Angry Birds coming from the background.

"I'm just surprised he's allowed to come." He doesn't mention Enjolras's name, because he's sure Courfeyrac gets what he means.

"Marius is a good fellow," Courfeyrac sighs. "Yes, he made a mistake but we all do them sometimes."

That reminds Grantaire that he still doesn't know why Marius is guilty for them ending up here. Or _being stuck_ , with Enjolras's words. "What's his deal, anyway?" he asks finally, resting Joly's present aside and grabbing the one for Courfeyrac, which is basically a bad effort of trying to paint everyone in there. He knows how much Courfeyrac cares about his friends and since there are too many, it took him around 4 hours to finish it and when he's done, he couldn't bring back his sharp vision for at least twenty minutes, everything looked so blurry.

"Well," Courfeyrac sighs. "You know about our last mission?"

"I believe so."

"The company belonged to Jean Valjean, who keeps a picture of his apparently breaktakingly beautiful daughter in his office. Marius was supposed to help Combeferre get some information from Valjean's computer so we could track his movements. But Marius decided to fall in love and forgot to disable the security, and Combeferre accidently set off the alarm in Valjean's computer. He at least managed to cover his tracks, but security noticed us, and well... It wasn't pleasant." He sighed. "Enjolras got really angry at Marius after that. It's why we didn't bring him here in the first place. But now since it's been more than two months, I think it's time for them to make up."

Grantaire can't help the laugh that escaped from him. "He fell in love in the middle of a mission? I want to meet this guy."

"I'm sure you'll get along well," Courfeyrac says. "He also drives Enjolras mad all the time so you have something in common."

Grantaire is grateful that Courfeyrac is outside the door, so he doesn't have to hide his expression. It doesn't take Courfeyrac long to notice what he'd said, obviously, because he's cursing lowly to himself.

"R, I'm-"

"Forget it, Courf," Grantaire mocks. "We all know I'm not his favorite person."

There is a silent for a few moments, then Grantaire hears Courfeyrac taking a deep breath. "You know he values you, right?"

"Courf."

Courfeyrac ignores Grantaire's warning. "I mean, look, I know he's not the easiest person to be friends with, but he’s just trying to help you." He talks fast but in a low voice, like he's afraid to be overheard.

"I know what he’s doing. You also try to get me drink less by putting the bottles downstairs. But you don't act like you are giving a fuck about me when you don't-"

"R-"

"-trying to make me right because you need everything around you to be perfect." Grantaire finishes before Courfeyrac interrupts him again.

"You know it's not like that." Courfeyrac sounds helpless.

"No, I don't," Grantaire snaps. "All I know is I'm not good enough to be around Enjolras, and he doesn't try to hide that."

Anger leaves his hands shaky. It's a good thing he has a bottle with him in the room, so he doesn't have to leave. He finishes the rest of presents in silence, not sure if Courfeyrac is still out there or not, because he doesn't make a sound. It's almost 4 in the morning when he sets everything aside, guessing Courfeyrac crashed in Jehan's room again.

The day before Christmas Eve is a different kind of excitement in the house because Courfeyrac leaves early to pick up Marius, who took the midnight train from Paris. Grantaire considers going with Courfeyrac, just to get away for a bit and let his legs stretch in the cold and maybe forget about the bloody pain at the back of his head -thanks to Enjolras. ButJehan asks for help in the kitchen because he wants to give Marius a good breakfast, considering things will get tense with Enjolras.With one wrong word, Enjolras will chew on him and spit him out. He doesn't see Enjolras all morning, which is good.He helps Jehan and Bossuet in the kitchen until Combeferre approaches him.

"R, can I see you in the basement?"

Grantaire tenses up, glancing at Combeferre because the last thing he wants is another speech from one of Enjolras's best friends. Combeferre looks like he won’t let Grantaire get away, though, standing at the hallway with his arms closed on his chest, wearing a knitted sweater.He has no other option than to hand his spatula to Jehan -who's making pancakes with blueberry marmalade- and follows Combeferre downstairs.

"I hope this isn’t about Enjolras," Grantaire sighs.

Combeferre looks surprised by that, turning toward Grantaire. "Why would it be about Enjolras?"

"Well, you know, I also got a speech from Courf last night." Maybe calling it a speech would be unfair to Courfeyrac's account, because it was more like a simple talk, but Grantaire wants to make sure that he'll avoid one from Combeferre.

"Good old Courf," Combeferre drawls, rolling his eyes. "He doesn't know when to stop sticking his nose into other people's problems."

"It's hardly a problem."

"I don't know what you’re talking about-"

"Really, Ferre?" Grantaire raises an eyebrow, because there is no way Combeferre doesn't know every single thing about the last days. Combeferre gives him a smile. A kind one, like always.

"Even if I do, it's not my place to get involved. You are both grown men." Grantaire can't help himself but snorting, because he's hardly a grown man, but Combeferre doesn't seem to notice. "I called you for something else."

Grantaire leans against the messy table, raising an eyebrow again. The table is covered with some of the gift bags they’ll deliver. The ones that didn't fit the table are on the floor, and there arealso a couple devices Grantaire doesn’t understand, probably Combeferre's mess. He can feel the table leanto one side as he gives his weight on it. Combeferre goes to the couch, which is even messier than the table with the knitting materials Jehan left there.Combeferrepulls a black box from the mess. He walks back to Grantaire.

"It's not Christmas yet, Ferre." Grantaire grins. "Don't you think you should wait two days more so Courfeyrac won't skin you?"

Combeferre gives him a look, like saying Courfeyrac couldn't skin him even if he tried really hard. "I know. I didn't want to put this under the Christmas tree and make a scene about it."

"Scene? What do you have there, tiger, lace underwear?"

Combeferre physically winces with the nickname, and Grantaire flashes another grin, a smug one. "No." He pushes his glasses back to their place. "Open it."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Now I get why Enjolras says you're never serious." Combeferre looks tired.

"I am serious." Grantaire says as Combeferre shoves the box into his hands. He opens it up, not wasting time, but his expression changes when he sees what's inside.

"No-"

"It's not for you." Combeferre frowns, but Grantaire glares at him because that's the worstlie.

"If I wanted a smart phone, I'd buy it myself," he said, even though both of them know he doesn’thave enough money to afford one."You can't go around giving people gifts like this."

"It's not..." he cuts himself off, sighing. "If you want to come on Christmas delivery then you have to accept it. There is an application I developed for us.We'll use it to communicate all day."

"This is your excuse?" Grantaire rolls his eyes, but turns the phone on instead of throwing it back to Combferre. Combeferre smiles, obviously aware of the fact that he's already won.

"It's not that bad."

"It is really bad. You should hang out with Courfeyrac more to get better at excuses." Though he knows Courfeyrac spends a dangerous amount of time with Enjolras and Combeferre. The phone buzzes in his hand as it turns on. Grantaire makes a face at the screen. "This has already been used, hasn’t it?" he sighs, looking at the Steven Universe wallpaper.

"It's all Courf." Combeferre told him, and of course it was Courfeyrac, who else? " _Steven Universe_ is his favorite TVshow."

"You call that cartoon a TV show?" He drawled, recalling Courfeyrac sitting in front of the television, watching the cartoon with Bahorel. At first he thought Courfeyrac had tied Bahorel up to make him watch or something, but then he heard Bahorel was also a fan.

"Don't mention that tohim." Combeferre smiles, stepping closer to Grantaire. "I'll show you the applications I already downloaded for you, I thought they might be useful."

Grantaire still listens to Combeferre, their heads ducked together as Combeferre swipss his finger across the screen, explaining it as simply as possible when the door cracks open. He glances up, seeing Enjolras stepping inside. The annoyed look on the red leader's face disappears as he spots Grantaire and Combeferre, melting into confusion. Grantaire looks back at the phone again, quickly, and ignores the way his heart clenches.

"Is Marius here already?" Combeferre asks, eyes still on the phone, so it's impossible to tell if he even looked up or not.

"Yes." Enjolras scowls, going over to his side of the table. "What are you doing here?"

"Here we are again, being upsetbecause we didn't ask Apollo for permission." Grantaire snaps. He can feel Combeferre tense up a little, but he doesn't let Enjolras speak first.

"Giving an early Christmas gift," says Combeferre, patting Grantaire's back as he steps away. "I think that'll be all you need to know. Courf will teach you all the other unimportant stuff."

"I think I’ll need it." Grantaire nods, also taking a step back and slidingthe phone into his pocket. "Err, thanks, Ferre."

Combeferre pats his shoulder with a smile.

"R-"

"See you later." Grantaire doesn't let Enjolras speak. He doesn't want to have that argumentnow. Or ever. It's feels fake after he understoodwhat Enjolras was after, and he feels like he will throw up if he hears it again. Enjolras doesn't try again as he climbs upstairs.

The scene in the living room makes Grantaire grin. There is a guy sitting in the middle of their couch, as everyone gathered around him and talk at the same time with each other. He tries to pay attention to everyone, it seems, and fails greatly. Grantaire takes advantageof not being noticed and studiesthe guy. He doesn't look very old, and has a puzzled expression on his face, like it's his default one. Too many freckles dusted on his face, hair ruffled and bright ginger. He definitelylooks like a guy who can fall in love in the middle of a mission.

Courfeyrac beams when he spots Grantaire, like their argument is long forgotten. "R! Come meet Marius."

Bahorel steps aside to give Grantaire space, and he pats his arm as he walks toward Marius.

"This is the saint who lets us crash in his house." Courfeyrac grins.

"I doubt saints are alcholic, Courf." Grantaire rolls his eyes as a grin tugs on his lips. "I'm Grantaire. R."

"Marius!" He exclaims so high Grantaire thinks he is going to lose his voice for a moment. "Pleasure to meet you!"

Grantaire glances at Courfeyrac as Bahorel fails to keep his laughs quiet, because who talks like that?

"Same."

"Courfeyrac already told me so much about you." Marius looks at Grantaire with a pure exciment on his face. 

"Not good things, I hope." Grantaire grinned, glancing at Courfeyrac.

"Of course not." Courfeyrac nodded, returning Grantaire's grin.

"Is it true that you are an artist?" Marius asks, sitting up and tryingnot to move too much as Jehan plays with his hair. 

"Hardly." He shrugs, ingoring the way others roll their eyes. It's not like Grantaire let them take a look at his art. Courfeyrac is the only one who knows much about his art, but it’s just because they share the same room. It's all Bahorel's fault because he let everyone know Grantaire's art is amazing after he carried his paintings to the attic. Grantaire spent three days kicking them out. Though he knows Jehan still goes upto search for more.

Before they can say anything else, Joly announces it's breakfast time and pushes them away from the couch, ignoring the way they complain. ("He spent hours travelling, let him eat something!") Grantaire goes to his usual armchair, accepting the plate Joly shoves into his lap with a roll of his eyes. Courfeyrac looks lost for a moment, eyes going between Grantaire and Marius. Feuilly leans in and mumbles something to him, making the troubled expression melt into a relaxed grin. Next think he knows, Courfeyrac's sitting opposite to him. Grantaire ignores the way his mind yells thatit's Enjolras's chair.

"I don't need you to babysit me." He scowls at Courfeyrac.

"Believe me, I'm doing both of us a favour." 

Grantaire gives him the glare he deserves, cutting his pancake into pieces with the side of his fork. It's obvious that Courfeyrac is trying to keep Enjolras and him apart from each other. And yes, it's wise, but he doesn't think Enjolras would want to come over anyway.

He's wrong, obviously.

"Courf." Enjolras sighs, standing next to the armchairs, staring at Courfeyrac and avoiding Marius's sad puppy eyes at all cost. Grantaire thinks it's best to keep his eyes on his plate, where his half eaten pancake waits for him patiently. It's better than try to avoid everyone's eyes on them, or Enjolras's, most importantly.

"Brought more food for me?" Courfeyrac grins up at Enjolras, who holds his plate up when Courfeyrac tries to reach for it.

"Can I get my armchair back?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. Grantaire tries to ignore the fact that he liked how Enjolras also thinks it's his armchair.

"Find somewhere else to sit." Courfeyrac gives him a fake pout.

"I'm not sitting with Marius."

"No one asked-"

"Seriously, Courf." Enjolras sighs, glaring at Courfeyrac. "We can sit next to each other without tearing our throats open. I can't give the same promise toPontmercy. Now, would you let me?"

Grantaire nods at Courfeyrac as he gives him an apologetic look, getting tohis feet and grumbling at Enjolras. Grantaire watches him join Jehan on the couch, who accepts him onhis lap without complaint, leaning against Bahorel. Jehan runs his fingers downCourfeyrac's back, listening something Feuilly's saying.

Enjolras makes room for his plate on the old coffee table placed between them, giving Grantaire a look and Grantaire thinks Enjolras is really wrong about sitting together without tearing his throat open.

"R."

"Enjolras, don't." Grantaire looks into his eyes, shaking his head slowly.

"I'm not doing anything." The red leader huffs, and Grantaire can't help himself but notice the bagsunder his eyes. He looks like he hasn’tsleptfor days. Grantaire wouldn't be surprised if it was true, because he's in the same situation. But he doubts that the same reason kept them up. Enjolras was clearly concerned about Christmas.

"Good. Keep doing that.”

"R-"

"No. Don't, seriously. If you want your friends to have a nice Christmas, don't pick up a fight wit me."

"That's not what I'm trying to do." Enjolras spits, his expression gives it away that he is losing his patience now. Grantaire couldn't care less. "I'm trying to talk to you."

"Well we both know how that's going to end, don't we?"

"If you keep acting like this, yes."

"Acting like what, Apollo?" Grantaire mocks. "That's my default personality. Do you also want to change this?"

"I'm not trying to change anything about you." Enjolras says, louder than necessary. No one turns to look at them, but Grantaire notices that everyone is quieter now.

"For the last time," Grantaire says, surprised by himself that how much patience he has. "Shut your mouth if you don't want to fuck this day up."

Enjolras looks like he wants to say something, but Grantaire gives him a cold glare. Not ruining his friends' Christmas is not entirely his reason not to pick a fight, but it's a plus, because he knows how excited Courfeyrac is about it all. And it's not just Courfeyrac, either. Grantaire doesn't want to ruin their day just because he and Enjolras haveproblems.

And that's actually what he tries to avoid to talk about. He doesn't trust himself not to yell and shut the door on Enjolras’sface and disappear for a week after that. He doesn't want to ask Enjolras why he's so stubborn about Grantaire, why doesn't he simply accept that Grantaire won't change and continue not to give a fuck about him. He doesn't want to know why Enjolras was so close to him that night, so close that whenever Grantaire lives the night over and over in his head, he can't help but wonder what would happen if he just leaned in and pressed their lips together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you'll like this chapter, because I had fun writing it!  
> The next chapter will be on probably next week, as a New Year's gift!  
> Once again I thank my beta captainbuckybarnes for her amazing skills!

"Wakey wakey!"

Grantaire grumbles into his pillow, hoping that if he acts like he doesn’t hear anything, Courfeyrac will go away, but no such luck. It only makes Courfeyrac climb on Grantaire, and he grumbles once again, crushing under his weight.

"Fuck off."

"It's Christmas Eve! Wake up!"

"I don't care." Grantaire wiggles his legs, trying to get Courfeyrac fall down, who only holds on tighter. "Go bother Jehan."

"I already did."

"Combeferre?"

"Everyone is up except you." Courfeyrac nudges him. "Come on, R! We still have to go to the center and buy fresh stuff for dinner. And talk to Eponine."

That gets Grantaire to open his eyes. He turns around, and Courfeyrac has to move aside so he won't fall down. The light comes through the curtains, and Grantaire's head hurts where he presses his fingers deep into his skull underneath his messy curls. He looks at Courfeyrac, who is wearing a Christmas jumper that Grantaire's sure Jehan knitted, his hair combed neatly, and a genuine smile on his face even though Grantaire glares him to death."What about Ponine?"

"We thought it'd be better if she and Gavroche spend Christmas Eve with you."

"We?"

"Combeferre, Joly, and myself."

Grantaire sits up completely, laughing and trying to rub the sleep off of his eyes. "That's nice, but I don't think Enjolras would allow it," he says, ignoring the way it sounded so bitter. Enjolras would probably prefer he visit Eponine instead of her coming to the house.

Courfeyrac’s smile does not falter. "He already said it’s okay."

Grantaire frowns at him. It's nearly impossible for Enjolras to agree something like this, since he cares about their privacy more than anything, but Courfeyrac doesn't look like he's joking.

"Come on." Courfeyrac says again, climbing off the bed. He throws clothes to Grantaire.

It takes Grantaire less then twenty minutes to be ready after kicking Courfeyrac out of his room, inculuding a shower and throwing a successful shoe at Courfeyrac's head when he tried to make his way back to room to make sure Grantaire is wearing something Christmasy. When he makes his way down in one of the ugliest Christmas jumpers he's ever seen his all life - Courfeyrac threatened that there would be no cookies for him if he didn’t wear it- he finds Jehan on Courfeyrac's lap petting his head.

"Stop pouting." Grantaire rolls his eyes, still towelling his hair dry. "It hardly hurt."

Feuilly grins at them from where he sits, legs on Bahorel's lap, who's half asleep and half watching TV. Combeferre and Joly are nowhere to be seen but that's not surprising, Combeferre is probably working and from the smell tickling Grantaire's nose, he can say that Joly's cooking breakfast. Marius looks flushed for no reason at all, sitting next to Bossuet and helping him put the gifts under the tree.

"I might die." Courfeyrac holds his head. "I think I’ve been traumatised. Enj, call Joly." He looks at somewhere behind Grantaire and that's when Grantaire notices that Enjolras is patiently waiting behind him to get through, because he's blocking the door completely. He frowns and steps aside, and tries hard not to laugh when Enjolras walks through the door with a bright red Christmas jumper and his hair forced into a tiny pony tail.

"Maybe we shouldn't do something about it until Christmas is over." Enjolras drawls, obviously not so pleased to be wearing the jumper. Grantaire agrees, probably for the first time.

Courfeyrac sticks his tongue out at Enjolras, who ignores him and takes his regular seat near the window. Marius whispers something to Joly and disappears into the kitchen.

"So," Courfeyrac wraps his arms around Jehan's waist when he sits up, so that Jehan doesn’t fall off. "Who's coming with us?"

"Me." Bossuet raises his hand, finished organising the presents. "Joly gave me a list."

"I can take the list," Courfeyrac says.

"Well," Feuilly grins toward them. "After last year, I don't think anyone's going to trust you with the list, Courf."

Grantaire raises an eyebrow, and Bahorel is the one who explains. "Last year he ended up buying a bunch of shit we don't need at all."

"We needed those candies."

"Sure." Feuilly rolls his eyes. "Joly made us go to dentist every month after your candy attack."

"And what about those scented lubes?" Bahorel asks, and even Enjolras smiles a little when others burst into laughter. "No one really liked them."

"I liked the watermelon one." Jehan grins.

"Thank you!" Courfeyrac huffs, leaning more into Jehan.

"So yeah, no list for Courf." Bossuet stands up, stretching. "Let's get going."

"Don't be too late." Enjolras warns, sipping his coffee. "I want to make final arrangments."

Grantaire opens his mouth to say something that'll do nothing but start another argument between them, but before he can make a sound, Courfeyrac is up and dragging him away from the living room.

"We’re taking the car." Courfeyrac hands the keys to Grantaire once they are outside. Grantaire raises an eyebrow at him, because the town is too small to take a car with them. Courfeyrac just pushes him towards the car. "We'll be carrying stuff."

"He goes crazy at Christmas shopping." Bossuet sighs.

They both roll their eyes when Courfeyrac yells "SHOTGUN" and runs toward the car. It's not the minivan Feuilly always drives, it's the new, shorter one which Marius brought the other day from the city.

Since they have the car, Grantaire decides to take them to a bigger shop, just outside the town but not so close to the city so there's no danger for them to get caught. Which is a little funny to think about since they are going to Paris tomorrow. The car ride isn't silent as Grantaire expected, because Courfeyrac claims the radio and puts on pop songs that Grantaire hates but Bossuet seems to like so they sing it together.

Grantaire rolls his eyes, keeping them on the road no matter what and trying to tell himself that at least it's not Christmas music.

Courfeyrac actually goes crazy when they walk into the shop after (finally) they park the car in a crazy full parking spot. There is decorations and sales in every corner, and Grantaire thinks he can actually see the stars in Courfeyrac's eyes. He looks like a 5 year old, but it's kind of funny and cute at the same time, so Grantaire keeps his mouth shut and tries to get everything in the list when Bossuet takes over the mission of keeping Courfeyrac from buying stuff that they don't need at all.

Soon Grantaire thinks it's a good idea just to take the list from Bossuet and walk away from them, because Courfeyrac wants to stop near every product that has Santa or deer on it, and they have to be home early to help everyone out.

Luckily it's not much of a problem to find everything they need. Plus alcohol. He knows that they're not allowed to drink because they have to get up early and be focused, but Grantaire doesn't think he can survive without alcohol. His stash gets really low really quick since he's still angry at Enjolras. He notices the list also asks for first aid kits, even though they have more than enough at home because of Joly. He thinks it's not a bad idea anyway.

When he returns with all the important stuff, the only things they need are snacks, and Grantaire knows where they keep Gavroche's favorites. Before he can reach the aisle, though, he's welcomed with a sight of Bossuet and Courfeyrac, fighting over the last giant container of Nutella.

"We are not buying 30kg of Nutella, Courfeyrac, let go!" Bossuet announces, but Courfeyrac doesn't let it go, hugging even tighter.

"We always eat pancakes, of course we do."

"We really don't." Grantaire grins at the way Bossuet looks so helpless.

"It's more economic."

"Now you’re thinking about the money? After all the useless shit-"

"Hey! They are not useless!"

Grantaire rolls his eyes, throwing packs of chips into the car. "Fine, let him, Bossuet. I want to watch Joly go crazy."

"Hey." Bossuet warns, punchinghis arm not quite enough to hurt. Courfeyrac puts the Nutella in their car and smiles wickedly at Bossuet, checking what they have in the car. "These are the only snacks we got?" Courfeyrac yells his complaint. After that, they somehow spend more time deciding what snack to buy than they spent shopping.

Bossuet goes to the car with all the stuff they bought, to put them in the car as Grantaire and Courfeyrac pays. So they can move back to house as quickly as possible. Grantaire watches Courfeyrac take a card out of his wallet and give it to the cashier with a charming smile. Grantaire rolls his eyes.

"What?" Courfeyrac grins at him.

"Aren't you not supposed to flirt with everyone you see?"

"Why shouldn’t I?"

"Well, Jehan?" Grantaire reminds, even though it's not actually his business to get involved in Courfeyrac's love life when A)he doesn't really care, B)he can't even get his shitty love life together yet. But Courfeyrac pats him on the shoulder, grinning even wider as if that's possible.

"Just because I have my own special poet lover doesn't mean I can't make pretty girls' day, does it now, my brother?"

Grantaire squints his eyes at him. "Don't call me that." He warns carefully, before he is interrupted by the cashier, who is now blushing as she asks for Courfeyrac’s PIN. Grantaire turns his face away and watches the people at the other check-out counters while Courfeyrac busies himself with more flirting. There are all kinds of people in the lines, having small talk with each other. It's kind of stunning, how all people get too excited over one single day and most of them doesn't even know what the day really means. But it's obviously memories which bring them together and make them smile about the day. Grantaire can't help but sulk, because he doesn't have a bright childhood with Christmas traditions, like Courfeyrac, who probably grew up in a large house with lots of Christmas memories. It’s a good thing he stopped caring about stuff like this years ago, then.

He snaps back to reality when Courfeyrac tugs at his sleeve. Grantaire falls into step beside him as they walk back to the parking lot.

"R."

"Hm?"

Courfeyrac stays silent for a moment and Grantaire glances at him just to see Courfeyrac frowning, which is strange since the guy was exploding with joy and exciment all day long. "What's the matter?" Grantaire asks, slowing his steps.

"Enjolras-"

"I don’t want to talk about Enjolras." Grantaire sighs, _the fuck_ , really.

Courfeyrac stops beside him and grabs his arm, frowning. "He's one of my best friends, and I don't want him to have a shitty Christmas just because you are both such idiots."

Grantaire snorts. "You were telling me that Enjolras is like the Grinch. Don't worry, though, I'm hardly capable of taking his joy away about anything."

"Are you fucking blind?" Courfeyrac huffs. "Seriously, _are you_?"

Grantaire ignores him and keeps walking, and hears Courfeyrac's steps behind him in moments as expected. "I don't want to talk to, or about Enjolras."

"He’s really pissed you off this time, hasn’t he?" Courfeyrac pushes. Grantaire doesn't care to reply. "You've had several arguments, I mean, you always sulk but you’re never angry at him."

"Well, I am this time. Can you drop it now?"

"So you care enough to be angry, that's a start."

"Are you fucking stupid?" Grantaire glares at Courfeyrac, already near the car. "Of course I care," he says, then adds, really silently, "It's Enjolras," as if it explains everything.

*

Eponine and Gavroche stay after dinner. Everyone insists they do so, mostly because everyone, especially Courfeyrac and surprisingly even Enjolras, adores the kid. This doesn't change the fact Grantaire thinks he's a brat, but he's glad that they both have a great time. Eponine follows Marius to the couch to continue the conversation they were having at the dinner table, and Gavroche gets to play PS4 with Bahorel and Courfeyrac.

It's a relaxed evening, everyone is chatting and having fun, everyone has one drink, even though it's not all alcoholic drinks, they seem to be able to enjoy the night without alcohol anyway. Except Grantaire, of course, who is physically in pain because there is not one drop of alcohol in his veins. But as Combeferre made it very clear earlier, if he starts drinking tonight one drink will lead to another and in the end he'll get drunk and mess everything up tomorrow because of his unbearable hangover. And as much as Grantaire wants to fuck it and drink until he doesn't give a shit about anything, he also wants to prove Enjolras wrong about tomorrow.

"You seem thoughtful."

Grantaire looks to his right to find Jehan carrying two plates, both hosting very large pieces of Eponine’s cake. Grantaire accepts the plate with a small smileand lets Jehan fit himself on his lap, digging into his cake. "I'm just thinking about all the alcohol I could be drinking."

Jehan laughs and leans back on the large armchair, his back half on the armchair and half on Grantaire's chest. "Don't worry, after tomorrow morning, no one will give a shit about how much you drink."

"Such a nice lie." Grantaire grins at him.

"Come on, it'll be like a celebration. Everyone will be relaxed, and we don't have anything to do until New Year's, when we can poison ourselves in every way we want."

"Don't give him any ideas." Joly, who doesn't sit so far away from them, gives Jehan a look. Jehan only grins.

"Well in that case, I think I can manage to carry my poor soul without its medicine for at least 12 hours."

"That's very generous of you." Combeferre joins the conversation, also accepting his own piece of cake from Bossuet. He hands the extra fork to Enjolras, who sits beside them with a blank expression on his face, which only means that he’s following the conversation but makes no comments, keeping his mouth to a thin line.

"Anything for the cause." Grantaire mocks. This time he sees Enjolras winceout of the corner of his eye. Standing up, the red leader makes his way over to Eponine and Marius, only to steal Marius away from Eponine. Marius looks terrified for a second when Enjolras murmurs something to him but walks outside with the red leader when Enjolras leads him.

"Shit." Jehan follows their movements with his eyes and Grantaire realises that he's not the only one who watches the two.

"It'll be fine." Combeferre assures them, not even looking up from his cake. "He'll probably only give him a speech about not letting what happened before happen again."

"A speech?" Joly looks at Combeferre. "Do you mean that he'll just scowl at him and make him lose his shit in fear?”

"That's a different point of view." Combeferre hums.

"Should we send Courfeyrac out there to make sure Marius doesn't get punched or something?" Jehan asks, sounding worried.

"No, Enjolras knows better than to punch him. He won't risk a broken nose that might affect tomorrow." Combeferre states, and everyone hums their agreement after a moment even though Joly winces a little.

"When are we giving out the presents?" Courfeyrac turns to them after Gavroche kicks their asses for the third time, even though it's the kid's first time playing the game. Gavroche grins proudly, though.

"You know when." Feuilly kicks his knee.

"Man," he sighs. "Can't we do it sooner today?"

"You are such a baby," Gavroche informs him.

Courfeyrac looks betrayed. "You are such a baby."

"I'm a grown up."

"Grown up my ass." Eponine jumps in, and Gavroche glares at her.

"You always say that I should watch my tongue."

"Yeah, kid, you should, but your sis is a grownup." Grantaire grins at Gavroche, who now looks even more bored of them and crosses his arms.

"You are such a bad infulence on me, just so you know." Gavroche informs them, leaning back against Bahorel.

"I'm pretty sure you’re a worse influence on us than we are on you." Grantaire keeps teasing the kid, who is now showing Grantaire his middle finger. Eponine yells loudly enough to make Bossuet drop his glass, which breaks with a loud noise.

Jehan stands up to help Joly collect the pieces of glass off the floor, as Joly talks about the dangers of glass when it sticks to flesh. Grantaire leans back in his armchair, watching the chaos in front of him: Eponine yelling at Gavroche and Bahorel hiding the kid behind his massive body, as Bossuet apologizes to Joly and thanks Jehan at the same time, babblingtoo quick for anyone to follow. His eye catches Combeferre’s for a moment. Combeferre raises an eyebrow at Grantaire, as if he's checking on Grantaire, who gives a curt nod to him in return.

It's not long before Marius returns, taking his seat beside a calmer Eponine now, looking a bit frightened but at least he doesn't look like he has a broken arm or anything, which is good, Grantaire thinks. Enjolras follows in a couple minutes, not that Grantaire pays any attention. He hates this Christmas more than any other, particularly because he has to sit in the living room with everyone else- which is okay, but that also means he's in the same room with Enjolras. And it's not fair because Enjolras looks damn cute in the very ugly red Christmas sweater Courfeyrac made him wear, his blond curls are wild all around his head and even though he still looks sleepless, he smiles when he listens to Combeferre talking beside him, eyes fixed on a spot on the coffee table. Grantaire's hand twitches, grabbing his glass and taking a sip rather furiously, wishing it was something stronger than orange juice.

Later in the evening, Courfeyrac occupies one of the armchairs with Jehan on his lap, Bahorel sitting down in front of them with Gavroche between his legs, who looks like already falling asleep as he tries to keep his attention on the game he's playing on Courfeyrac's phone. Eponine is still with Marius, which Grantaire doesn't mind at all because Eponine seems like she's building a crush on the guy, and even though Grantaire knows that Marius's mind and heart belongs to someone else, he doesn't want to spoil his best friends' best Christmas so far.

"Uno," Joly announces, putting a plus two card on Bossuet's yellow one, now holding just one. Grantaire narrows his eyes, glaring at Joly.

"You bastard." He murmurs as takes two cards from the deck, a green five and a red seven, which don’t match the several blue cards he's holding. He grumbles, but Joly gives him a cheerful smile. "Do something." He scowls at Bossuet.

"What?" Bossuet sighs, frowning at the cards he has. "I don't even have a yellow one."

"Take a damn card and be sure that it's a good one."

Combeferre laughs from the couch where he's sitting and watching them. "No pressure though." He says and Grantaire spares him a glare. Enjolras's lips twitch. He sits beside Combeferre, who alsowatches their game but doesn't smile.

"Yes!" Bossuet screams as he puts down the plus four card he just drew from the deck. Grantaire leans in for a high five as Joly growls a "No!" under his breath.

"I hate you," he informs both of them but Bossuet leans down to give him a kiss.

"Are you looking at my cards?" Joly pushes him away. Bossuet tries to look wounded.

"You have no faith in me?"

"Not after the tricks you pulled the last time we played Uno." Joly reminds him.

"Well he's right." Courfeyrac grins at them from the armchair. "You are a nasty player."

"I’m just lucky." Bossuet defends himself. "And you are the one to talk."

"Yeah sure," Feuilly snorts as Courfeyrac dismisses Bossuet with a grin and cocks his head to the side so Jehan can kiss him. "You, my friend, have the worst luck in the world."

"I met Joly, didn't I?"

"Ewww." Bahorel throws them a pillow. Joly grins stupidly and elbows Bossuet.

"Would you mind picking a colour?" Grantaire rolls his eyes at them.

"Oh, well, blue."

Grantaire tries not to grin as he casually plays his turn, trying to hide the fact that he's very much pleased with the decision. He spends all his cards in a few rounds and leans his back as he grins. "And that, my friends, is how you play Uno."

"Shut up." Joly kicks Grantaire under the coffee table. "You just had good cards."

"I had a strategy."

"Strategy my ass." Bossuet rolls his eyes, putting his cards down.

"I'm a very good planner." Grantaire says, only to hear Eponine snort.

"You want me to tell them about the party you planned in highschool?" she says cheerfully, which is so not like her but since she's the only one who's allowed to drink alcohol and has been talking to her crush all night, Grantaire doesn't question her good mood. He scowls instead.

"Shut your mouth, you little shit."

"Hey, watch your tongue before I cut it off." Eponine says, beside a very worried looking Marius.

"I'd like to see you try." Grantaire grins at her, stucking his tongue out to her, daring.

"I think you’re scaring Marius." Feuilly says, patting Marius on the knee. Eponine turns her attention back to Marius atthat. Grantaire gathers the cards and shuffles them without even paying attention, something he learned how to do over the years of practising.

"Wow." Bossuet pulls Joly against his chest as he watches Grantaire shuffle the deck, raising an eyebrow. "You are good at this."

Grantaire shrugs, noticing that now Joly also watches Grantaire shuffle, as well as Combeferre and Enjolras, which Grantaire tries hard to ignore. But it's impossible not to feel nervous when Enjolras just stares at his hands, quick and not allowingany mistakes. "Something you learn quickly when all of your drinking buddies are also disobedient gambling bastards."

Eponine snorts again, but this time she prefers to stay silent, which is better for her own safety, really.

"You don't gamble?"

"Well since I have nothing to lose, really, it's hard to gamble. And also boring."

Combeferre adjusts his glasses, sitting up straight. "You have this house, though."

"Why give him ideas?" Eponine hisses, but she joins them when they laugh.

"Believe me, I know how it is to live in the streets, so if there is one thing I wouldn't risk, it's the roof over my head." Grantaire raises his juice glass to them, grinning. "Not even for alcohol, which says a lot."

"You liar." Eponine laughs.

"What?" Grantaire glares at her, because she knows it’strue. He wouldn't risk losing the house since he's in no place to afford another and living in the street sucks.

"Well, true, you wouldn't risk the house." Eponine explains, turning to face with Grantaire from where she is sitting at the other side of the room. "But that's not the only thing you wouldn't risk."

"This is getting interesting." Everyone ignores Courfeyrac to watchEponine.

"You’d also never risk your friends." She grins.

"She means alcohol."

"No, I mean friends-"

"Yes, that's what I said, alcohol is my best friend."

"I thought it was your medicine." Laughter fades when Enjolras speaks, with the grin on Grantaire's face. He feels something heavy on his chest, not sure if it's anger or hurt, probably both, and hates the way Enjolras's words sting too much. He looks up to Enjolras, who still has a blank expression like he had all evening, watching Grantaire. Combeferre puts his hand on Enjolras's arm, gently, but Grantaire and everyone else know it's a warning.

"Take your horse glasses off, Apollo, the wonders of alcohol don’tend with it being a medicine," he stings back, holding Enjolras's gaze even though the only thing he wants to do is to leave the room and drown himself in the aforementioned medicine.

Enjolras twitches upon hearing Grantaire, but he doesn't make another comment nor moves, and Combeferre removes his hand on the red leader's arm slowly.

"So, who wants another round?" Courfeyrac says to lighten the mood. "I bet I can kick Combeferre's tidy ass at this game.”

Combeferre looks at Courfeyrac with an amused expression, as if there is nothing tense in the room, and licks his lips. "You're on."

No ones tries to stop Courfeyrac when it's midnight. Grantaire watches him make an over-excited noise and run to the Christmas tree to fetch his presents. He at least remembers to be kind and pull them into a corner to give everyone else space. Grantaire is not that curious about what he has there, really. He'd be even happy if there werenone for him. It's not like he's used to getting gifts. But he tenses up when he notices people grabbing the gifts he put there for them, curious if they'll like themor not. Not that anyone will say something if they don't like it, of course, Grantaire knows them well enough for this. Maybe that's the reason he tenses up, though.

Courfeyrac makes surprised noises everytime he opens a pack in the corner he's sitting, totally covered in wrapping papers, already wearing one blue scarf, which seems like Jehan's knitting. Grantaire feels glad that they carried Gavroche upstairs when he fell asleep, or he'd be up again by now. Enjolras and Combeferre also don’tmove toward the Christmas tree, waiting for everyone else to be done with it so the chaos will be over.

Grantaire isnot lucky enough to be ignored. Because as long as Jehan opens the gift from Grantaire, he makes an over dramatic hitching noise, looking quite shocked. "Grantaire, this is amazing!"

Courfeyrac, who looks a little jealous because Jehan didn't give the same reaction to Courfeyrac's gift, leans over to see what Grantaire gave to him. After that, it's a different kind of chaos because everyone starts to open their gifts from Grantaire, other ones forgotten on their laps as they start to compare them. Jehan comes to him to give him a kiss on the cheek. Grantaire finds it really hard to stay grumpy and glare at everyone. Eponine winks at Grantaire from where she's sitting, the little shit. It's so obvious that she's proud of herself for coming up with the idea.

"What do you have, Ferre?" Jehan asks Combeferre, helping Courfeyrac collect the keychains from everyone and line them on the coffee table, so they can take a picture of it. Bahorel throws Combeferre’s across the room to him.

"Thanks, Grantaire, this is beautiful." Combeferre says after he opens the clumsily packed box, smiling. "I believe it's a galaxy."

"Hand it over!" Courfeyrac says, snatching it before Combeferre can move.

Laughing at the expression on Combeferre's face, something very scary, to be honest, Grantaire sits up and presses his elbows to his knees.

"I'm glad you all liked them," he says, even though he feels overwhelmed, there’s no need to be a dick and bring the mood down. Just for this time, though.

"But wait a second," Marius speaks, leaning over his seat to get a better view of the coffee table, and counts the keychains quickly. "Is that all? What about Enjolras?"

It's a good thing, Grantaire thinks, that everyone knows tonight wouldn’t be right without tension, because that means he doesn't have to feel guilty everytime it happens. He looks upto Marius, who's now getting a smack on the head from Bahorel.

"What?" Marius protests, trying to cover his head. "Did I say something wrong?" asks the oblivous idiot. Grantaire wants to smack his head himself to make him shut up, but Bahorel simply puts a hand over his mouth to do just that. He makes a mental note to buy him a beer for that, later.

"Actually," Combeferre starts, "I think there is another one left. Mind handing it over, Feuilly?"

Grantaire curses himself when his eyes, not him, his hideous traitor eyes slid to Enjolras to see his expression. He catches Enjolras's eyes instantly, looking back tohim in a slight shock, not too overdramatic, nor spoiling his fearless stone hearted look. Grantaire feels his fingers twitch for a bottle again, curling them into a fist instead of reaching for something.

As ridiculous as it is, everyone watches Enjolras as he unwraps his own present neatly, like they have nothing better to do, fuckers. Grantaire hates every single one of them for making his gift look bigger than it is, because he's pretty sure Enjolras doesn't really give a fuck what's inside the box.

"Lyre. Of course." Snorting, Enjolras hands his keychain to Combeferre before looking at Grantaire once again. This time he looks slightly amused, though the expression doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks the same as the night they argued, like he doesn't want to let Grantaire escape from his gaze. And Grantaire can swear that he feels Enjolras’stight grip on his shoulders once again, squeezing to keep him in place.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Enjolras solve some problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I have good and bad news for everyone!
> 
> Good news: I'm publishing this chapter as a New Year's gift, so it's published earlier than it should be.
> 
> Bad news: I'm taking a month or two for break, so I'm not going to publish anything new until mid-February. 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter and as always I thank my beta captainbuckybarnes. She's truly amazing.
> 
> Enjoy&Happy 2016!

Grantaire finds himself awake at four in the morning. It's cold, probably because he kicked the blanket off in his sleep, but he's pretty sure that's not the reason why he's wide awake at 4 fucking a.m. He looks across the room, seeing Courfeyrac fast asleep in his own bed with a pillow between his arms. Climbing out of the bed, Grantaire walks to his closet as quietly as possible, grabbing his towel before making his way past the door.

It's quarter past four when he leaves the shower and goes downstairs in his towel, since he' s sure no one is going to be awake for another forty five minutes, at least. Combeferre plans to leave at half past five, since it'll take them three or four hours to get to Paris. Once Grantaire makes sure there is enough water in the kettle, he turns it on as he towels his hair dry with his other hand.

The kitchen, like the rest of the house, is a mess from the night before. There are several glasses unwashed, along with a stupid number of plates that Grantaire doesn't think will fit in the cupboards. He drops his towel on the couch when hewalks to the Christmas tree. There are only a few gifts left unopened, all of which are for him. The first is from Eponine, who made him promise not to open it until morning because she doesn’t give a shit about their night gift exchange. There is also one from Bahorel, who suggested it’s better to open it when Enjolras isn’t around, so Grantaire guesses it’s alcohol. The last and the neatest one is from Enjolras.

Grantaire leans down to run his damp fingers on the dark green wrapping paper, frowning ever so slightly. Part of him doesn't want to know what Enjolras got him, afraid that it's some stupid book about how to quit drinking or something like that. Part of him, though, is dying to see what's in there. If Enjolras didn't make Courfeyrac pick the present, that is.

"Fuck," he curses when a clicking sound from the kitchen makes him startle.But the only sound is the wind. He shakes his head, standing up as he carries the box back to the kitchen with him.

He knows it can’t be too personal, since Enjolras doesn’t even know details about his own friends well enough to pick gifts for them. So he doesn't keep his expectations high as he unwraps the present carefeully. Hell, he doesn't even have any expectations.

_I know what's it's like to live in the same room as Courfeyrac. I hope this will help you to block out his singing. E._

Grantaire picks up the headphones out of their boxes, blinking. It's an overpriced present, sure, and Grantaire should be angry at Enjolras.He can afford to buy good quality headphones for himself, thank you very much, but the fact Enjolras remembered Grantaire's complaints,and even wrote a note, makes it impossible to be mad.

Grantaire tries to stop his idiotic smile. He shouldn't be smiling. He should be mad at Enjolras because of what he thinks of Grantaire. He should be mad because he tricked Grantaire and pretended that they were friends. He should be really mad because it's probably nothing. There was no thought behind this present, he tells himself. Everyone can appreciate expensive headphones. And everyone hates Courfeyrac's singing. It's nothing.

Yet he still smiles like there is somethingkeeping his mouth open when Combeferre walks inside with a matching towel around his waist, only raising an eyebrow when he notices Grantaire. He doesn't lookbothered by the fact they are both naked, not at all.

"I'm guessing you are very happy to see me," he says as he makes his way to the counter, humming as he makes his coffee.

"Shut up." Grantaire grumbles, putting the headphones and the note back into the box even though Combeferre probably already knows what it is. "Why are you up so early?"

"We always get up early, Enjolras and I." Combeferre finds another clean cup and makes coffee for Grantaire. Grantaire tries not to focus on the fact that Enjolras is in the shower. "It's such a mess when everyone else gets up, all grumpy and sleepy. They can't get any work done."

"Do I hear trouble in paradise?" Grantaire teases, accepting the coffee Combeferre hands him with a grin, deciding to love the guy forever.

"Maybe," Combeferre muses. "Why are you up?"

"Sleep never comes easy to me, my friend."

Combeferre snorts. "I've seen you sleep with your mouth open for hours."

"Doesn't mean it _comes_ easy," Grantaire gets to his feet, balancing the box and the coffee cup in one hand. "As much as I'd like to spend my dark hours here with you," he grins, "I need to put some proper clothes on before your fearless leader shows up."

"I don't think he'd mind seeing you like this."

For a moment, Grantaire thinks he heard Combeferrewrong, or he's still sleeping. Grantaire thought Combeferre never got involved with stuff like this. Also, what he said is completely ridiculous.

"What are you up to?" Grantaire narrows his eyes, and Combeferre laughs.

"Just stating the facts."

Hearing movement upstairs, Grantaire shakes his head at Combeferre, who grins at him from behind the coffee mug, and makes his way out of the kitchen. He tries not to flinch when he sees Enjolras at the top of the stairs, a towel around his waist and another on his head, blinking back at him. Clearly, none of them expected anyone else to be awake.

"Morning, R," Enjolras says, his eyes lingering on Grantaire's exposed body and the box he's holding.

Trying to play it cool, Grantaire just nods at Enjolras as he climbs the stairs, only to be stopped again by Enjolras when he reaches his level. Enjolras's eyes burn through him.

"What?"

"You’re still mad at me."

"I would rather not have this conversation when we’re both half naked." Grantaire rolls his eyes, tries to keep a distant expression on his face even though he's boiling up inside because of his own words.

"You never want to have this conversation," Enjolras states in a dull voice.

"See? Problem solved-"

"R."

Grantaire closes his eyes for a second, trying to keep his insanity in place because Enjolras standing right in front of him half naked and holding his arm makes it very hard for Grantaire to still be mad at him. "Let's have it after then," he says finally.

"What?"

"After the mission. Let's meet in the basement and talk about whatever shit you want to talk about, okay?" He knows that he's making a mistake, because it'll end with them having another huge fight anyway, but he wants Enjolras to drop this already because he doesn't even know why he's trying to get Grantaire to talk tohim again anyway.

"Okay." Enjolras looks into Grantaire's eyes, his hand sliding away slowly but Grantaire feels the burning against his skin all the same, even when it's gone.

Grantaire gives him one last nod and climbs up the rest of the stairs, leaving Enjolras lingering as he goes to his room as quietly as possible.

*

"Here you go."

Grantaire waits a step back with more paper bags than a normal person could carry as Bossuet stands in front of him and leans down to give one of the bags to a very old woman, covered with many blankets on the ground. Grantaire doubts that it will help her keep warm, because the weather is clearly too cold.

"Merry Christmas." Bossuet gives a last smile to the woman, patting her shoulder and moving to the next person. Grantaire hands him a paper bag without a word, his eyes roaming around.

They’re in an abandoned parking lot. It's full of people in torn clothes, some of them still asleep, hugging a bottle or snuggling up against the person beside them. It's a cold place, with no real walls around the building, just a few piles of bricks. There is a couple tin cans around the corners that smell of gas and plastic. Grantaire wrinkles his nose as they pass one, trying to ignore it.

Anger washes over him as he sees more and more, watching the grief in people's faces, as hopeless as Grantaire himself. He knows there is nothing to be done. It's just one morning, one day to fill their stomachs and then it's all the same. Endless starving and cold and sickness. And it can't be changed because it's not just them, it's millions, hell, billions like them all over the world and no one has long enough arms to help them all, Grantaire knows. He hates it, hates watching them like this, suffering, knowing that there is nothing to be done. He's not as foolish as the others, as Enjolras, who believes what they're trying to do is worth something.

"R?"

Grantaire snaps out of his thoughts as he looks at Bossuet, holding out a hand to him. He holds out another paper bag instantly, taking a deep breath through the scarf Jehan knit for him, firmly wrapped around his mouth.

"What's up?" Bossuet asks when finishes with a young boy, walking away from him and towards Grantaire.

"Nothing," Grantaire lies quickly.

"Bite me."

Grantaire chuckles, earning a grin from Bossuet in exchange.

"Seriously, though,"Bossuet starts again. "You look a little off. Is it Enjolras?"

"No." Grantaire rolls his eyes, tugs his beanie down a little bit more as he shakes his head at Bossuet. "I know this will surprise you, but not every bit of my concerns are connected to your red leader."

"I'm truly surprised." Bossuet mocks him, getting a punch on the arm in return.

"It's just all this." He waves a hand, in no direction in particular.

"Am I hearing that you care? Oh god, if only Enjolras was here to hear it."

"Did you steal my sarcasm when I was sleeping?" Grantaire narrows his eyes on Bossuet before they apporach someone else.

They had to separate the cars, since it was impossible to fit everyone in one. Marius took Joly, along with Bossuet as expected, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire in his car, as Feuilly got Enjolras, Combeferre, Jehan, and Bahorel. Even though Courfeyrac made a slight complaint about being separated from Enjolras, Combeferre, and Jehan, Grantaire knew he had no other choice. Enjolras stated clearly that he wasn't going to let Marius go with them without one of the three of them accompanying Marius.

Being stuck in a house with Enjolras was bad enough already, and Grantaire doesn't dare to imagine how would it be to be stuck in a car with him for several hours and then getting to see him in action. He doesn't think his heart or his mind could handle such a thing.

"Our area is finished." They hear Joly twenty minutes later, walking toward them with Courfeyrac, who looks as hopeless as Grantaire for a change.

"I got a text from Enjolras," Courfeyrac says. "They are already heading home."

Grantaire checks the clock, grimacing. It's almost afternoon, and it'll take them hours to get back home.

"I'm starving," he lets the others know as they walk back to the car.

"Me too," Marius sighs.

"What if we grab a bite before we go back?" Bossuet offers.

"Enjolras would kill us." Courfeyrac laughs. "Being spotted in public? No way."

"What about take out?"

"Whatever we're gonna take out will be as cold as ice since the time we're home." Grantaire sighs, climbing into the car after Joly. "But I know a place only half an hour away, and they make really good fried chicken."

"Still means hours of starving." Marius points out, starting the gear.

"Well, better than nothing, don't you think?" Grantaire shrugs.

"Exactly," Courfeyrac grins. "I'm sure even Combeferre is too tired to cook."

"So, I guess we're settled on where our next stop is." Bossuet puts his head on Joly's shoulder. "Wake me up when we arrive, please."

*

Jehan attacks Courfeyrac with kisses when they arrive with food. Even Enjolras looks pleased, to Grantaire's surprise, because he's definitely not the kind who cares about being hungry. Combeferre takes the bags from them, which is enough to feed an army, which is exactly what they are. Their plates and forks are still dirty, piled up on the kitchen counters and table, so they end up sitting crosslegged all over the living room on the floor, eating fried chicken and french fries directly from the boxes with their hands. Grantaire shares a box with Marius, head against the armchair and legs spread out as he tears off a piece.

"This place is heaven," Courfeyrac groans into his chicken. Combeferre beside him looks a little disgusted, but not too much, since he's quite used to Courfeyrac.

"Too much fat," Joly says with a mouth full of fries.

"I see you care so much." Grantaire snorts.

"I'm hungry." Joly rolls his eyes.

They chat about how the delivery was, nothing too detailed since they'll have a meeting just for that later. Grantaire offers Marius the basement over the fries they are exchanging. Marius is more than glad that they let him in. Grantaire takes pity on the poor chap. Enjolras must have been so hard on him.

Speaking of the devil, Grantaire looks up and notices Enjolras is staring directly at him, and his shoulders tenses with the promise he made.

He hopes that Enjolras forgot. But when Enjolras excuses himself after whispering something to Combeferre's ear, his hopes fly away and there is nothing else than following him downstairs in a few minutes.

Grantaire finds Enjolras sitting in his usual chair as he enters the room, looking as sleepy as the rest of them. He closes the door and rests his back against the wall just next to it, staring at Enjolras from afar.

The silence between them is uncomfortable. The air is heavy with something that Grantaire can’t name, but it makes him want to run away. He can see that Enjolras is as tense as he is, though he doesn't even try to hide it. He doesn't really know what Enjolras wants to talk about. Is he going to explain what went wrong? An apology seems uncharacteristic.

Enjolras is also unsure, for a moment or two, until he gets up and curls his hands into fists. He opens them again, running them against his sides, then dropping them and making fists again. Grantaire tries not to laugh.

"I don't like this," Enjolras says after a lifetime of silence, his blue eyes meeting Grantaire's.

"You don't like what?"

"You."

Grantaire grins, even though Enjolras stings him. "I didn't expect you to."

"No." Enjolras sighs and walks up and down again and again. He runs his hands through his golden hair, making it even messier. Grantaire wants to reach out and shoot his hair down, but he can't. It looks like now it's his time to curl his hands into fists. "I don't like that you’ve been avoiding me. You can't even look at me, R."

Somehow glad that Enjolras didn't use his full name, because that would make everything ridiculously serious. Grantaire crosses his arms on his chest and watches Enjolras, taking his time to reply. "I wonder whose fault it is."

Enjolras opens his mouth to say something, then closes again. It's not him, Grantaire thinks. It's not the Enjolras he’s known since day one, so strict and pulled together and determined. This Enjolras is confusing, nervous and lost for words, and Grantaire doesn't like it because it makes Enjolras look powerless.

"You are not a charity case for me," Enjolras tries again.

"If you can name one reason that you stuck with me other than what I already figured out in our last conversation, just one fucking reason, Apollo, I'm gonna bloody believe you."

Enjolras shakes his head, his fingers carving through his hair once again. Grantaire tries hard not to stare at his stomach when his jumper slides up with the movement. But then suddenly, he takes a step back, his eyes locking with Grantaire's once again. They are burning with something unfamiliar to Grantaire.

"I don't understand you," Enjolras says, his voice back to its stony state, which Grantaire can handle. This is safer. He can mock this Enjolras as much as he wants and push him to the edge without getting confused about why he acts so uneasy. It's better. "You’ve been flirting with me since the moment we met. But when I finally flirt back, you think I’m taking you as a charity case." He almost spits the words with anger.

Grantaire feels numb. He just stares at Enjolras, trying to put the words which left his mouth into a sentence. Then he laughs, because there is nothing else to do. Enjolras flirting with him? The fucking flawless Apollo flirting with a piece of crap like himself? It doesn't even make sense.

"There is nothing in me that you can be interested in," Grantaire snaps.

"You’re right. Maybe we’re not on the same page every time, but I’m tired of denying the fact we both want each other, at least sexually."

"Don't play me, Apollo," Grantaire snarls. "It's not funny. First you treat me like a charity case, and then you mock me like this?"

He doesn't know when Enjolras moves. He doesn't even see it. The only thing he knows is that Enjolras is now pressing him against the wall. His hands are strong on his forearms, like the night they fought, and his eyes burn with something that Grantaire really doesn't want to call desire, but holy shit it looks like desire.

"I'm not going to let you pull this shit on me once again, R," he warns. "I'm not going to repeat myself again. I don't have time for playing around, and you know I don't. I'm going to ask you once, just once, and it's not my problem if you give the wrong answer." His grip tightens on Grantaire, forcing him to meet his eyes once again when he looks away. "I can't handle this. Being around you turns me on, it affects my mind and it affects my work. When I’m working, I find myself thinking about so many different ways and places I could fuck you. But I don’t have the time to give you anything besides that, besides comforting each other in bed, or in different places in some cases.” He pauses again, and Grantaire doesn’t dare to breathe. “Here’s the offer. Take it if you want to, but if not, we will not speak of this again. That also means you have no right to act like I tricked you, because here I am, giving you clear answers.”

If it's possible to have an orgasm just by listening to someone, Grantaire thinks he just had one. His heart clenches and flutters in his chest and it's so fucking unbelievable. How he has the right to talk like this, like, like how thinks about fucking Grantaire and gets aroused by him. He opens his mouth to mock, but Enjolras looks different with a I-had-enough expression on his face and Grantaire finds himself moving his hands instead of talking. He uses them to cup Enjolras's face. Enjolras leans into Grantaire's touch as Grantaire gets up on his toes to kissEnjolras.

The hold Enjolras has on Grantaire doesn't get lighter as their lips crash. It’s neither soft nor romantic like in Hollywood movies. It’s real, and it hurts Grantaire’s lips because Enjolras bites and tugs and makes Grantaire slip out the most embarrassing sounds. For a moment he thinks that he shouldn’t make noises like this since everyone is upstairs. He wonders if helocked the door, but that all vanishes when Enjolras presses his hips against Grantaire’s, his cock already half hard. Grantaire parts his lips once again, gasping for air, but finds Enjolras’s tongue pressing in his mouth instead. He can’t remember how long it’s been since he was with someone like this. The answer is never, because no one’s ever had the same burning touches on him. No one’s ever kissed him like this, electric and addictive, and Grantaire feels that if Enjolras stops kissing him he won’t be able to breathe again.

Enjolras stops kissing him. Grantaire leans his head against the wall, his chest moving up and down as he closes his eyes. He doesn’t see Enjolras, but feels the pressure of his body, hears his breathing, so close to Grantaire’s ear now it tickles with warm humidity.

“Should we go upstairs?” Grantaire offers, what feels like a lifetime later.

“And let everyone see us like this?” Enjolras laughs into his ear, his hips pressing against Grantaire even more.

“That’s a problem we need to solve.” He opens his eyes as Enjolras bites into his neck, but not enough to leave a mark, just enough to make Grantaire’s toes curl.

“You think?” When Enjolras talks, his voice is low, hoarse, and Grantaire doesn’t know if he hates it, because everything Enjolras does, even talking, makes his breath hitch, or adores it.

He pushes away from the wall and Enjolras lets him, waiting to see what Grantaire will do. They don’t have too many choices with no condoms or lube, because he highly doubts they have any in the basement, so Grantaire licks his lips and pushes Enjolras toward the stairs, who takes the hint and places himself on one of the steps.

It feels right to kneel in front of Enjolras, like it’s part of the worshipping Grantaire’s been doing for weeks, and he pushes Enjolras’s stupid jumper out of the way. He feels Enjolras sigh deeply with the first touch of Grantaire’s lips on his stomach. Grantaire looks up to see Enjolras closing his eyes, and sucking lightly on the flesh under his lips.

“No marks,” Enjolras gasps immediately.

Grantaire pauses, licking the part he’s just sucked. “It might be too late for it.”

“Grantaire.” Enjolras hisses, draws a laugh out of Grantaire’s lungs.

“No more marks?” He offers, undoing Enjolras’s pants as his mouth slides up, over his nipples and upto his neck. “None here?”

“No.” Enjolras gasps, lifting his hips to help Grantaire push his pants and boxers out of the way.

“What about here?” Grantaire murmurs, licking over his Adam’s apple and biting softly. Enjolras makes a noise that sends shivers down Grantaire’s spine.

“No,” he growls.

“What?” Grantaire grins, sliding down to mouth Enjolras’s nipple, working his tongue over it.

“No,” Enjolras warns again, but this time his eyes are open, locked with Grantaire’s gaze.

“Are you ashamed of me, Enjolras?” Grantaire teases, his fingers curling around Enjolras’s cock. It’s a delight to watch how Enjolras jumps slightly with the unexpected connection, his mouth goes slack as his eyes burn with desire and hear him gasp.

“Grantaire—“ Enjolras tries to say something, but Grantaire moves down and swallows thewords out of him at the head of his already hard cock.

“Yes?” Grantaire asks after a moment of sucking on it softly, stroking Enjolras slowly as he looks up to Enjolras, who looks like a wreck, with his parted lips and messy hair, his head leaned backwards.

“Stop teasing.”

Grantaire gives out a laugh, leaning down to get into business, his lips closing around Enjolras’s cock. It’s been a long time, he knows, but he’s still skilled enough to know where he should press his tongue, or how he should trace the veins with his tongue to make Enjolras twitch under him.

He starts slow, just teasing Enjolras with his tongue and sucking on the head but nothing more. He runs his fingers up and down Enjolras’s thigh, listens to the sounds he makes when he presses his fingers on just the right places.

“Grantaire—“ He hears Enjolras whisper, his hand through Grantaire’s hair gets tight, hurting Grantaire and making his eyes get teary, but he doesn’t mind the slightest.

Even if it’s hard to give up teasing, he finally agrees with Enjolras and takes him into his mouth fully, slowly swallowing him down inch by inch, until he can’t anymore. He’s disappointed with himself, because he knows that he can do better but Enjolras sounds pleased all the same. He puts his hands on Enjolras’s sides to keep him in place when he bobs his head up and down and again and again. He doesn’t try to do any tricks, because they’ll have time for that, later, right now he just wants to get Enjolras off as soon as he can. The sounds Enjolras is making are illegal, and it takes a great amount of self-control to keep his hands away from his own cock, which is hard and aching in his pants.

Soon, Enjolras is panting and tugging Grantaire’s hair and obviously doesn’t feel concerned about people hearing them. “Yes— _Grantaire_ , do that again—Yes, _that_ —“ He doesn’t close his mouth, always babbling something or moaning, groaning, gasping, and Grantaire just wants to cry. It’s so beautiful to listen. Then suddenly, Enjolras’s mouth closes and his eyes go blank. Grantaire feels the warm liquid down his throat as Enjolras twitches under him.

“I could use a warning next time, you know.” Grantaire teases as he gives Enjolras time to recover, his thumb caressing circles on his chest.

“My brain doesn’t function under some circumtances, spare me.” Enjolras rolls his eyes, pulling Grantaire up, pressing a kiss to his mouth, not innocent at all. Grantaire lets Enjolras suck his own taste off Grantaire’s tongue.

“What do you want?” Enjolras asks, undoing Grantaire’s pants with one hand, the other wrapped around Grantaire’s waist firmly, keeping him in place. Grantaire doesn’t answer, stealing another kiss from Enjolras and soon he has Enjolras’s fingers curled around him, gasping into his mouth.

“Warning, Enjolras,” he hisses. Enjolras grins smugly.

“Is this fine?” he asks, stroking up his cock and down again.

“Mmhm.” Grantaire manages, closing his eyes and pressing his face in the crook of Enjolras’s neck.

Enjolras’s hands are wicked. He grips Grantaire firmly, just the way Grantaire likes but it’s impossible for Enjolras to know that, and he pulls long, strong strokes, making him shiver and gasp. Enjolras holds him tight so Grantaire can’t move away even if he wanted to. But he doesn’t want to. He tries to jerk his hips up to Enjolras’s hand, who doesn’t let him.

“Too much?” Enjolras asks when Grantaire cries against his skin, sinking his teeth into flesh even though Enjolras warned him about no marks. Enjolras hums when Grantaire shakes his head, twisting his hand as he pulls another stroke, his thumb stroking the head. Grantaire cries again, feeling his knees go week and tremble. “I got you.” Enjolras tightens his arm on Grantaire’s waist. “Come on, Grantaire,” he whispers, sending Grantaire to the edge.

He bites deeper into Enjolras’s flesh as his orgasm washes him over. His legs go limp, and his nails scratch the red leader’s back. The only thing keeping him from falling is Enjolras’s arm, secure around him. He’s silent, pumping Grantaire off with quick, strong pulls. Grantaire tries to twitch away when the orgasm fades, leaving his skin sore.

Grantaire doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but he opens his eyes when Enjolras chuckles and says, “I don’t know how long I can hold you like this, R, especially when you’re still biting me.”

The blush spreads across Grantaire’s cheek, even though he’s almost never shy in bed with anyone. He moves his body even though it resists. He regrets that they didn’t do this in bed so that he could have immediately gone to sleep.

Enjolras gets up the second Grantaire moves himself off of him. He doesn’t look tired, just a few marks forming on his skin that he inspects with a disapproving look. Grantaire doesn’t feel smug about that marks.

“No marks, next time.” Enjolras fixes him with a look, that could be terrifying but all Grantaire hears is “next time.”

“And no cuddling?”

“Pardon me?”

Grantaire laughs, reaching for his own boxers as Enjolras starts to dress himself in front of him. Grantaire finds it as attractive as stripping. “No wasting time after sex, I mean.”

“This was hardly sex.” Enjolras points out, probably right. It was more like angrily getting each other off than having sex, but it doesn’t change the fact that they did it.

“You mean if I let you fuck me, you’ll stay for a cuddle?”

“Don’t tempt me, R.” Enjolras looks slightly amused at the idea. “I don’t cuddle, though.”

“Of course not.”

Enjolras dismisses Grantaire’s teasing with a sigh and reaches for his jumper, tugging it over his head. “I’ll see you in the evening. Try to get some sleep.”

“Get some sleep, he says,” Grantaire talks, eyes on Enjolras. “Just after he leaves me with memories to think about for nights.”

“Grantaire.”

Grantaire laughs, and Enjolras shakes his head before climbing the stairs and vanishing behind the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Evening After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I know it took me longer than normal to publish this chapter, but I've been on a writing break. So sorry for making everyone wait!
> 
> As always, thank you my talented beta Zoe (captainbuckybarnes) for all the help. And thank YOU for all the nice comments&kudos.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

The cold water slaps Grantaire in the face, sending chills all over his body. He needs it. His toes curl with the need to jump out of the unbearable cold, but he stays, because he needs to wake up for real. He’s been sleeping almost since they came back, and it’s around ten in the evening. Combeferre sent Bahorel to everyone’s rooms to wake them up, and Grantaire was lucky enough to get to the shower first. But showering alone is not enough to wake Grantaire up, since he’s stil trying to decide whether getting Enjolras off was real or just a sweet sweet dream.

“Get out!” Someone- probably Courfeyrac- punches the door of the bathroom, his voice not so clear over the sound of running water and Grantaire turns it off. “Fine! Just a sec!”

“It’s been fifteen minutes, what are you doing, jerking off?!” Now it’s clear that it’s Courfeyrac. Grantaire rolls his eyes, even if there’s a smile on his lips.

“You better not be there when I get out, Courf!”

Grantaire easily finds the dark green towel that belongs to him and wraps it around his waist before leaving the bathroom. He doesn’t bother with his hair, letting it drip on his already wet shoulders. He shivers once again when cold air hits him. Courfeyrac is waiting outside the door, his hair a mess.

“Finally!”

“Shut up.”

“We’ll be late for the meeting.”                                                                     

“No, we won’t, no one’s showered yet.”

Courfeyrac mumbles something Grantaire can’t hear. Grantaire walks to his room, slowing as he passes the stairs. Enjolras’s low voice comes from downstairs.

“No, I don’t want Courfeyrac to know just yet, Ferre. I don’t want this to be something big-it’s not that important.”

Grantaire feels like he’s been pushed under the cold water once again. He doesn’t stay to listen, it’s cold in the house and he has no luxury of getting sick. When back in the room, his eyes catch the paintings of Enjolras.

_“…but I’m tired of denying the fact we both want each other, at least sexually.”_

Right, it’s as simple as that. They both want each other sexually. Enjolras didn’t even tell him there would be a second time. There’s no point of getting upset over it just because Enjolras called it unimportant, Grantaire decides, pulling his clothes over his head. The wool warms his body almost immediately. He can hear the low hum of the dishwasher downstairs and follows to see who’s brave enough to clean the dishes.

Enjolras is sitting with a cup of something dark in front of him –Grantaire bets that it’s coffee – at the kitchen table with Feuilly opposite to him. Combeferre is cleaning the dishes that didn’t fit in the machine. Grantaire doesn’t miss the fact that Enjolras is wearing a turtleneck, and thinks that it’s more about the marks than the cold.

“Oh, one of our sleeping beauties.” Bahorel slaps Grantaire on the shoulder, and earns himself a glare, but returns it with a grin easily. “Perfect way to spend Christmas, isn’t it?”

“You think?” Grantaire mumbles, looking around for a clean mug and Combeferre hands him one. “Thanks.”

With his cup full with coffee, Grantaire feels that it’s easier to focus, and lets his body drape on the chair next to Enjolras.

“You should blow-dry your hair.” Enjolras comments as he lowers his cup from his lips.

“Caring about me?” Grantaire teases with a grin.

“Joly would skin us if he heard that we’re letting you get yourself sick.”

“You are not going to tell me now that you’re afraid of Joly, are you Apollo?” Enjolras rolls his eyes, Grantaire doesn’t know whetever it’s for the nickname or the general teasing. Grantaire turns toward him slightly, remembers the way Enjolras was moaning in his mouth a couple hours ago. “If you want to return the favor, I’d be glad to let you blow-dry me.” He says lowly, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous light.

Enjolras gives him a warning look after checking if anyone heard him, but Feuilly is engaged in a conversation with Bahorel, who’s drying the dishes Combeferre is washing, and Combeferre has his back to them. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Grantaire leans in, a grin cracking on his tired face. “Don’t talk about you blow-“

“R.”

Grantaire chuckles because Enjolras has almost a troubled expression.

“Wait-,” Bahorel turns toward them as Grantaire leans back in his chair and continues to sip his coffee, pretending that he’s completely innocent. “You two are talking again?”

“Who’s talking again?” Jehan walks inside, his damp hair is in a pony tail. He looks as tired as Grantaire.

“Enjolras and R.”

“Enjolras and R are talking again?” Someone, probably Bossuet, calls from the living room.

“They weren’t talking before?” Grantaire hears Marius ask. Enjolras rolls his eyes.

*

The Christmas Project leaves them exhausted and without energy to start anything new, so Enjolras lets everyone relax for once and even stops working himself. Shocked and happy, Grantaire doesn’t complain. He also takes a break from painting. He thought, maybe, after having touched and having been touched by Enjolras, he would finally have a break from him haunting his thoughts all the time. Well, he had never been more wrong. Enjolras continued to haunt him, even worse now. Grantaire tried to paint, but it was hopeless. He found himself staring at the blank canvas and thinking about painting the noises Enjolras made in the basement instead of painting a boring landscape commission. So, taking a break from painting wasn’t really a choice.

Eponine texted him a couple times asking about Marius or complaining about her father’s return.

Two days before New Year’s, Courfeyrac throws an idea at them. Everyone is comfortable in the living room, though Grantaire still finds it surprising for them all to fit in the room, with now ten people in the house. Grantaire is back to his corner with Enjolras. He plays games on his phone as Enjolras discusses something incredibly boring with Feuilly. He tries to ignore it, but a warm bubble grows wide inside him everytime Enjolras glances at him. Sometimes his eyes linger, but never long enough for someone else to notice. Grantaire finds hanging out in the living room easier now, since they’re back in their corner with Enjolras. Everyone knows they’re not about to yell each other now.

“I know what that’s about.” Combeferre drawls with a tired smile on his lips. Jehan sits behind him, one of the books Enjolras gifted him for Christmas beside him, reading absent-mindedly.

“I think everyone knows what’s that about,” he comments.

Courfeyrac rolls his eyes and tries to pretend that he’s offended, crossing his arms over his chest. “What?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “We all need a good party.”

“We partied the day before Christmas,” Enjolras says, his eyes on Courfeyrac now. Grantaire feels jealous of Courfeyrac for the first time. It doesn’t stay long though, only until Grantaire realises that he’s being stupid. Of course Enjolras can’t stare at him all the time. (Why not though?)

“That was hardly a party!” Courfeyrac complains.

“Yeah, if we’re calling that a party, I doubt anyone here knows how to party for real,” Grantaire says lazily from where he’s sitting, legs stretched on the coffee table between his and Enjolras’s armchair. Enjolras looks back at him. Grantaire winks.

“I’m with Courf and R,” Bahorel agrees.

“Me too,” Jehan says.

“Fine,” Enjolras sighs, looking at the rest of them. “I think we can arrange a small party here—”

“No way, we’re about to puke this house out of our mouths if we spend any more time here.”

“Thanks, man.” Grantaire grins at Courfeyrac.

“Well it’s true. I need to get out,” Courfeyrac answers.

“I don’t think you can find a good club here in the winter. There’s only a couple near the sea in the summer.”

“See, as Grantaire says, there’s nowhere else to party anyway.” Enjolras doesn’t try to hide the victorious tone of his voice.

“There’s always the Musain,” Combeferre says and Enjolras looks betrayed. Combeferre smirks apologetically at him.

“Yes, I’m sure Eponine will be glad to host a party, won’t she?”

“Only if we clean the dishes.” Grantaire grins.

“Done!” Joly says from where he’s laying on Bousset.

Grantaire laughs, taking his phone out. “I’ll tell her. Though I think her father is coming back, so this might be a problem. He doesn’t like me much.”

“I remember him,” Jehan says, his hands are on Combeferre’s shoulders now, but Courfeyrac doesn’t seem to mind at all. The trust they have between them always surprises Grantaire. He doesn’t think that Courfeyrac would mind if Combeferre had sex with Jehan. The idea of Combeferre having sex amuses him. “I don’t trust him.”

“No one does,” Grantaire mumbles, opening the messages on his phone. “You should meet her mother. They’re a nightmare together.” He shivers at the thought of that family. “Anyway, I think we’ll find a way to party even if Eponine says no. I know some places.”

“I don’t think we should trust that too much, R, it’s places you know after all.”

Grantaire looks at Enjolras, who’s almost smirking back at him, and his face cracks with a wide grin. “Look at that, our Apollo knows how to tease.”

“Not as good as you, Dionysus.”

Grantaire bolts up and kneels in front of Enjolras, taking his hands into his own. “Gods, hear that! Mighty Apollo calls me, a humble servant of his, a god. How can I handle this?”

He hears their friends laugh, but his eyes are locked with Enjolras’s, who looks as touched as Grantaire with the connection of their hands, but he seems to enjoy himself.

“You, humble?” Enjolras rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me laugh, Grantaire.”

“I wish!” Grantaire exclaims. “I wish I hear that magnificent laugh once, then I would die happy.”

Enjolras laughs at that. His head leans backwards, golden locks bouncing up and down with the shake of his head and shoulders. Grantaire doesn’t know how to breathe for a second, unaware of that he’s still holding Enjolras’s hands.

“Look at that, he wishes me to die at once!” He manages to say when he collects himself.

Enjolras only rolls his eyes, but his eyes stay locked with Grantaire’s, their hands joined together. Finally, Enjolras remembers that everyone is still in the room and takes his hands away as he leans back in his armchair. “You’re ridiculous, Grantaire.”

“I’m honoured to hear that,” Grantaire replies, jumping back on his armchair, a huge grin stuck on his face. Courfeyrac winks at him, and Grantaire’s grin widens.

Later that evening, Grantaire finds Enjolras in the kitchen, staring inside the fridge with a hopeless frown. He only glances up when he notices Grantaire, then turns his eyes back to the fridge.

“Did we eat everything at Christmas?” he complains, almost childishly. Grantaire can’t help but smile as he lights his cigarette.

“I guess so.” He leans against the counter, watching Enjolras shamelessly.

Enjolras wears a different jumper from a couple hours ago, and his hair is a little damp. Grantaire notices that Enjolras must have put on some weight, because his hips fill his pants better now. It’s not too much weight, and it’s not that he looked bad a couple months ago, but this suits him way better. His hair is also a longer, Grantaire realises. He remembers the night he cut Enjolras’s hair. Enjolras looks up and closes the fridge with a childish frown, but he doesn’t leave the kitchen.

“Are you hungry?” Grantaire draws a breath in from his cigarette, and Enjolras shrugs.

“No. Just wanted a snack.”

Grantaire blows the smoke out and opens the window, shivering with the cold. “I guess I only have a cigarette to offer.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Enjolras walks closer and takes it from Grantaire. Grantaire watches him draw a breath.

“You put on some weight.”

“It’s bad?”

“No, it looks good.” Grantaire pulls Enjolras forward, holding from his pants’ pockets. Enjolras laughs, but glances behind over his shoulder to check if anyone is about to walk on them.

“Thanks,” he says, looking back at Grantaire.

“What are you doing tonight?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras snorts.

“You know what I’m doing tonight, Grantaire. It’s not like I have too many options, is it?”

Grantaire licks his lips, leaving one of his hands on Enjolras’s pocket and taking the cigarette back with the other.

“Well, no.” His eyes shine as he looks at Enjolras, a smile on his lips. “But that was a invitation.”

“Oh,” Enjolras hums, “Of course.”

“So?”

“You know I’m staying with Combeferre, R.”

“So what? You are telling me that he knows nothing about...” He cuts himself off, a slight frown forming on his face as he realises that he doesn’t know how to name it. He can’t say ‘us’ after all. “Well, this.”

“It’s not about that—”

“Courfeyrac brings Jehan over or sleeps in Jehan’s room almost every day, no one says anything.”

“It’s also not about that-“

“What’s it about, then?” Grantaire gives him a stubborn stare. He knows Enjolras doesn’t want others to know, but there’s no way they can sneak into the basement everytime they want to touch each other. “I can send Courfeyrac away,” he says, without waiting for Enjolras to reply.

Enjolras looks at Grantaire without speaking, for almost an entire minute. Grantaire thinks that he tries to decide, because his eyes travels on his lips and back to his eyes every now and then. “Fine,” he finally says. Grantaire feels victorious.

 

Night falls as Grantaire listens to the house, holding his brush and staring at a blank canvas for at least half an hour now. It’s hard to create something when you are waiting, and Grantaire knows it well, but that doesn’t hold him back from trying. They didn’t exactly set a time, but the clock reads half past 2 in the morning, and Grantaire thinks Enjolras should be here already. The house is silent. Everyone’s gone to bed already. There’s nothing that could hold Enjolras back.

Sending Courfeyrac away was not hard at all, earlier. He walked in the room and said he was going to sleep in the basement with Jehan. They were going to watch a movie or something, which, knowing Courfeyrac, Grantaire was afraid to ask what kind of movie was that. But the way Courfeyrac said it made Grantaire feel like he already knew about him and Enjolras.

Right, him and Enjolras. _There is no such thing as real_ , Grantaire reminds himself. _No labeling, or you are going to hurt yourself, don’t label it_ , he tells himself, over and over. There is nothing to label yet. _Well, don’t bloody think about it._

As the clock 3:00, Grantaire decides that Enjolras is not coming and goes to sleep, trying not to think about it.

*

The door opens, fast and loud, first thing in the morning. Grantaire groans as he opens his eyes and regrets it because he’s immediately blinded by the sun. “Close the fucking curtains!”

“You’ve got to see this!”

“What is it?”

“Get up, get up.”

“If you’re waking me up because it snows again, I swear to Apollo, I’m gonna fucking kill you, Courfeyrac.”

“No! Though it’s snowing too-”

“Courf!”

“Come oooon, you need to see this. You’ll thank me!”

Grantaire doubts it but lets Courfeyrac drag him out of the bed and downstairs, still in his pyjamas and messy hair. His head is throbbing, even though he’s sure he didn’t have a drink last night. He has a bitter taste in his mouth too, so he can’t be 100% sure. They walk to the living room, and pretty much everyone is there, watching the couch with a fond expression on their faces. Grantaire blinks a couple times. The scene in front of him is so ridiculous that he’s almost sure he’s dreaming.

“Tell me-”He starts talking, but everyone hushes him at the same time, so he frowns and whispers for a reason he doesn’t know. “Tell me you didn’t wake me up to show me a bunch of guys watching the couch.”

“No, come here.” Jehan rolls his eyes and grabs Grantaire by the sleeve and tugs him in front of the couch.

And then Grantaire feels like he’s been hit by a meteorite to the stomach, and explosions linger.

Enjolras is asleep on the couch, a blanket over his body that he clunches tightly, golden locks all over the pillow. For once, there’s no frown or scowl on his face, no seriousness. It takes Grantaire’s breath away. The sun peaks through the window and washes Enjolras over. He looks younger than usual, but Grantaire think it’s his true age, since Joly’s been telling the red leader that frowning ages him. Grantaire feels his heart clench, because it’s like there’s an angel in his living room, and he knows that cheesy but fuck it if it is because he doesn’t care. He wants to paint him like this, kiss him, wake him up, tell him how beautiful he is, but at the same time he’s afraid to wake him up. The bitter taste in his mouth is gone, and he can’t find the anger he’s been feeling towards Enjolras.

He hears movements but he doesn’t dare to take his eyes away from Enjolras. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked, and kneels down beside the couch, raises his hand but too afraid to touch.

“Apollo, hey,” he whispers finally, after minutes, after scratching the image in his mind as well as he can, so he’ll never forget it.

Enjolras stirs and opens his eyes halfway, looking at Grantaire. “I’ll be up in a minute, R. I told Ferre I’m gonna work tonight.”

Grantaire can’t help but laugh, the last drops of anger vanishing. “That’s nice, but I’m afraid the night has passed.”

“What?” Enjolras rubs his eyes and looks at Grantaire properly. “Oh fuck-” he curses when he realises that it’s morning.

“I guess you fell asleep here.” Grantaire raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, I…I was waiting for everyone to go to bed.”

“That’s alright, get up now. But I’m afraid I have to warn you that they took photos of you sleeping.”

Enjolras groans, pushing himself up. He rubs his face with his hands, his fingers long, elegant. Grantaire remains seated and watches Enjolras. Enjolras looks at him again and opens his mouth, but he’s almost immediately interrupted by Marius, who’s hovering bythe doorway. Grantaire only then realises that they are alone in the living room—well, except for Marius.

“Joly says we are out of bread.”

“Oh—right.” Grantaire gets up and stretches. “I’ll go fetch some.”

“I’ll go with you,” Marius offers. Grantaire nods, leaving the living room, not daring to look at his messed up and right out of bed Apollo.

The morning passes without seeing much of Enjolras, since he goes upstairs with Combeferre to make some adjusments to their bedroom straight after breakfast. Grantaire hears that since it’s the biggest room, they are going to squeeze Courfeyrac in too, to save Marius from sleeping on the couch, who feels like staying even after New Year’s. Grantaire invites Eponine for a walk by the seaside later that day. And to his surprise, she agrees, even though it’s really cold outside. Grantaire wonders if it’s because she’s missed him or because she wants to learn more about Marius, but it turns out to be neither.

“I swear I’m gonna rip his guts off.”

“Ah, father-daughter love like nothing else,” Grantaire mocks, taking her arm, not only because it’s hard to walk in the snow, but because he wants her to calm down.“What did he do this time?”

“Well he’s back, for a start, y’know. And he’s brought Mother with him.”

“Ouch.”

“I know,” Eponine mimicks Grantaire and grimaces. “It’s horrible.”

“So there’s no chance of a New Year’s party at the Musain?”

“What?” She looks at him with a confused expression, though Grantaire can still notice the lines of anger underneath it.

“Just an idea Courfeyrac had,” he explains.

“Oh. Well, no. I don’t think that would be smart. He was asking about your lot, you know.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think?” Eponine rolls her eyes, unpatient. “My father.”

“Why does he want to know about them?”

“Fuck me if I know.” She shrugs, tugging her scarf up. Her nose is already red from the cold. “But he’s been asking since he’s been back. Especially about your Apollo.”

“Enjolras?” Grantaire says, frowning even deeper. “Do you think he’s recognized him?”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t read the papers,” she says. Grantaire mumbles something like ‘Does he know how to read?’ but she ignores him and continues, “I think he’s just realised that they are not only here for painting courses. Not a smart cover story.”

“Everyone bought it except your bloody father.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, you are bloody, too.” he snaps, but Eponine laughs instead of getting angry.

“Just stay away from the Musain for a while. It would be for the best.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

Spending time with Eponine is as easy as ever. They walk to the seaside, clutching each other. The sky is light grey, promising more snow. Grantaire is, for once, happy that they’ll be trapped in the house. There’s a place on the seaside, a very small one, run by an old couple. Grantaire leads Eponine inside to get warm, pushing the cheap o-plastic door open. He doesn’t talk about him and Enjolras until he and Eponine are seated, sharing a mug of hot chocolate. She doesn’t seem surprised when he finally mentions Enjolras, but she’s cautious.

“He’ll be your downfall, I can tell.”

“Downfall?” Grantaire snorts. “You don’t think I’m down enough, Ponine?”

“Well…” She grins. Grantaire rolls his eyes, nudging her. “It’s just obvious that they’ll leave one day-”

“No, not thinking about that.”

“Not thinking about it won’t make it less true though,” she points out, taking another sip. Grantaire’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t pay any attention to it for the moment.

“What about Marius?”

“ _What about_ Marius?”

“He’s leaving too. I mean, he will, when the others do.”

“I’m not fucking Marius.”

“You wish you were.”

“R!”

Eponine gives him a look, and Grantaire is still scared of Eponine’s potential after all the years he’s been friends with her. He laughs, though, punching Eponine on the arm playfully before getting up. Stretching, he looks at the sea through the window, taking a deep breath.

He doesn’t want to think about what Eponine said. He doesn’t want to think about Enjolras leaving, now that they’ve started something. Even though Grantaire can’t name what they’ve started. It makes his heart heavy. A part of him is aware of it, another part of him is denying it so hard that Grantaire wants to believe the latter. He feels like... he doesn’t feel thirst, hunger, sleeplessness, anything at all, when Enjolras is on his mind. He feels in the middle of a fire, with no escape, just waiting until the fire washes him over and he’s smoke and dust.

His phone buzzes one more time and distracts Grantaire. Rolling his eyes, he reaches for his phone, not at all pleased to see that it’s Courfeyrac who’s calling, probably for some other party idea or to find out what Eponine had said.

“Yes?” he answers, turning to face with Eponine, who was watching her from her seat.

“Grantaire,” It’s Jehan who speaks. Grantaire frowns, there’s something off with Jehan’s voice.

“What is it, Jehan?”

“That man came over—Eponine’s father. I can’t remember his name.”

“What? Thenardier?” He frowns deeper. Eponine slaps herself on the forehead as she stands up. “What did he want?”

“He said he wanted to see you.”

“Well, it can’t be, he knows I’m hanging out with Eponine.”

“We thought so, too. Enjolras thinks he—oh wait—here.” Grantaire hears a rustle over the line and then it’s Enjolras who’s speaking. “I want an urgent meeting, how soon you can be back?”

“Well, give me twenty minutes. Tops.”

“Alright, do you mind bringing Eponine? I’d like to question her about her father.”

“Yeah sure. No problem.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thenardier, basically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I apologize that it took me longer than usual to publish a new chapter, but I had university etc, so it was really hard for me to focus on the story. I hope you like this chapter. Once again, I want to thank my beta captainbuckybarnes for everything.  
> Enjoy! <3

Eponine agrees to go with Grantaire. Grantaire has no idea what Thenardier wants, but he doesn’t like the situation all. Even the thought of him getting suspicious is enough to make Grantaire worry about Les Amis leaving. Enjolras surely knows Thenardier could find out who they are and call the police. Grantaire knows that Enjolras is working on a escape plan with Combeferre, in case of emergencies, but Grantaire doesn’t know if it’s finished, or necessary for now.

Bahorel lets them in when Grantaire knocks on the door. Enjolras probably asked Bahorel to be the bouncer, since he is was scariest of Les Amis.

“Marius is in the living room,” Bahorel says, glancing at Eponine. “We’ll join you soon.”

Grantaire pats Eponine on the shoulder. She doesn’t respondbecause she’s excited to sit with Marius alone, he’s sure. Grantaire follows Bahorel into the basement with a feeling in his chest that he could not explain. Enjolras, who probably didn’t want Eponine to see their _headquarters_ –the word makes Grantaire grin – lets Grantaire inside like he’s one of them. Which he probably is at that moment, but Enjolras’s action makes it more official than anything else.

“Grantaire.” He almost seems relieved to see him. Now his hair is a tiny ponytail behind his head, sitting on his usual chair.

“Hey. What’s the deal?”

“You tell me. Why has he been looking for you?”

“I have no idea. He knew I was going out with Eponine and probably spotted us leaving. And he’s only just back from Paris with Eponine’s mother.”

“What’sher mother like?” Jehan asks from where he sits, not leaning on Courfeyrac for once, who sits beside Combeferre.

“No different than him.”

Enjolras runs his hands through his hair. Until New Year’s, there would be no work, they would just relax. That was the plan. Now Thenardier fucked it up.

“Eponine told me he’s been asking about you, so it’s better if we stay away from the Musain while they’re here.” Grantaire says after a moment. The sooner he shares the information with Enjolras, the better.

He can see Enjolras getting tense. His gaze is fixed upon Grantaire and his smooth forehead allows a wrinkle, his eyebrows drawn together only slightly. “Us?”

“Yeah. Especially you.”

“What does he want to know?”

“Eponine says she has no idea.” Grantaire shrugs, wishing he had smoked on the way. “But she says he doesn’t read papers, so it’s unlikely he knows who you are.”

Enjolras remains tense, as Grantaire expects. “We are not only in the papers. The possibility of him knowing who we are still stands.”

“Should we follow the escape plan?” Courfeyrac asks, though he doesn’t look very keen to do it.

“We can’t, obviously.” It’s Combeferre who answers. “If we all leave now it’ll look suspicious. Since Thenardier’s already suspecting us, he’ll call the police.”

“Yes, but we’ll be gone already,” Joly says, frowning.

“They might still take Grantaire in for questioning.”

Grantaire looks up at Enjolras and finds him looking back. Grantaire never considered the possibility of Enjolras letting him go with them as they left. Considering it was already hard to make Enjolras accept that Grantaire was one of them.

“Right,” Grantaire says, turning his gaze away from Enjolras and looking at Combeferre again.

“Everyone knows we’re together. Even though they don’t know that we are Les Amis.”

“I can also—”

“You are not coming with us,” Enjolras says curtly.

“I know I’m not coming with you,” Grantaire snaps. “I was going to say I can also disappear for some time, go back to Paris or something.”

“They’ll still have your name.” Combeferre shakes his head, though Grantaire only notices him with the corner of his eye because he’s glaring at Enjolras, who’s glaring back. “They might still not know who you are from the photos they took on the train station. Leaving all together now will help them to name you. And they’ll possibliy think that you’re with us.”

“What’s the sugesstion then?” Grantaire sighs, folding his arms on his chest. “You stay?”

“We stay,” Enjolras sayscalmly, though the harsh edge of his tone is still noticable. “I want to talk with Eponine about Thenardier. Let’s see if we can get somewhere with him first. It will obviously take time for him to make sure that we’re who he thinks we are. By that time we will have a proper escape plan.”

After Enjolras states his thoughts, without further discussion, they leave the basement to bringEponine downstairs. Still feeling irritated by Enjolras, Grantaire decides that it’s a good time for a shower and makes his way upstairs.

Fresh and clean, he blow-dries his hair and goes to the kitchen. Jehan is in the kitchen, making tea. He smiles upon seeing Grantaire entering.

“Hi. Want a cup?”

“No, I think I’ll cook.” Grantaire smiles at him, patting his shoulder as he passes him to get to the closet where they keep cooking pots.

“What are you going to cook?” Jehan asks, climbing on the counter to sit there.

“I don’t know. What do you feel like?”

Picking up a large pot, Grantaire places it on the counter and goes to the fridge to see what they have. It looks like someone did more shopping when Grantaire was away, because the fridge is almost completely full. He grabs a few packs of chicken breast and some tomatoes.

“How does tomato risotto and grilled chicken sounds?” He asks Jehan, who’s still thinking. “I think I have a grilling pan.”

“Oh, it sounds good! Can I help?”

“Sure.”

Joly and Combeferre join them soon. Jehan cuts the tomatoes into small pieces and Grantaire does the same for the chicken breasts. Adding some spices, Grantaire grills the chicken as Jehan makes the risotto, both of them listening to Joly and Combeferre chatting.

Enjolras only lets Eponine out of the basement when it’s dinner time, but he stays inside.

“Oh my God, how do you stand him 24 hours a day? He doesn’t smile.” She huffs, sitting down after filling her plate with food. Grantaire doesn’t miss the way she looks at him as she talks.

“He does,” Courfeyrac chuckles. “He’s just nervous. You should’ve seen him this morning. He was like an angel – oh! Actually, you can. I have the photographs.”

Grantaire grins as Courfeyrac sits next to Eponine, remembering the way Enjolras looked that morning. His fingers are twitching to get a grip on a pen, anything that he can draw with, really.

“Did he eat anything today?” he asks then.

“Breakfast,” Joly answers.

“Just that?”

“Well, he’s been hiding in the basement since you left.” Courfeyrac says, looking up from his phone which now Eponine holds.

“God.” Grantaire rolls his eyes, getting to his feet. He’s not surprised since he knows that Enjolras doesn’t eat much, but there’ll be no dinner left soon, and he’ll starve all night if he doesn’t eat now. Grantaire’s pretty sure that Enjolras’s mind is only on Thenardier. He remembers the first night they spent together – well, apart from the time they spent in the train – and how Enjolras made lists all night and worked on Grantaire’s laptop.

When he enters the basement with a tray of foodfor Enjolras, two bottles of beer, and his own share of food, he finds the red leader unsurprisingly scribbling on a notepad. He doesn’t look up when Grantaire walks in, but when he comes closer, his nose wrinkles, and he glances up.

“If you can smell food, that means you are hungry,” Grantaire says casually, making some space on the table to put the tray down. Which is quite hard because the table is covered with all sorts of papers and sticky notes, but Grantaire manages it.

“I’m working,” Enjolras answers. Grantaire glances at his notepad. He’s making some kind of list ofall the information they have on Thenardier.

“You can eat, and then work.”

“Do you realise how important this might be?”

“Yes.” Grantaire takes the notepad out of Enjolras’s reach.Enjolras groans and makes a catch for it, but misses.

“Give it back, Grantaire.” He frowns.

“After you eat.”

“Grantaire—”

“That glare won’t work on me, Apollo, I’m already glare-proof.”

“That’s not even a word.” Enjolras rolls his eyes but pulls his plate closer. Grantaire doesn’t answer, only opening the beers and taking a sip from his own.

“Do you think you can send Combeferre away tonight?”

Caught unprepared with the sudden question, Enjolras looks at Grantaire with raised eyebrows, chewing on a piece of chicken. “Why?”

“You know why. You fell asleep last night.”

“I already said—”

“I don’t expect an apology, Apollo, relax,” Grantaire grins. “Just tell me if you can send him away.”

“I can’t just send him away.”

“Give him something to work on, I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

“Even though I can send him away, I need to work.”

“No you don’t, we said no work until New Year’s, remember?”

“Yeah, that was before Thenardier,” Enjolras says, his tone becoming more serious.

“You’re stressed. You need to relax.”

“It’s not the time to relax—”

“Come on, Thenardier is not going anywhere. Just tell Combeferre to do some more research, and we can have an hour of relaxation.” He shoots a grin at Enjolras and continues to eat.

Enjolras thinks about it, and Grantaire is glad. He knowsthat there’s at least a possibility of Enjolras agreeing.

“I can’t spare you more than an hour,” Enjolras says at last, filling his fork with some risotto. “And you have to keep quiet.”

“I am quiet—”

“And no marks. Turtlenecks bore me.”

“I think they suit you.”

“R.”

Feeling much lighter than in the afternoon, Grantaire grins once again, but doesn’t continue to tease Enjolras. They finish their food in silence. Grantaire finds it comfortable rather than disturbing. There’s no glaring at each other, no avoid talking to each other, no trying to get away from each other as soon as possible. It’s just dinner, catching each other looking at the other every once in a while and smirking secretly.

It takes them two more hours to get everything sorted out before meeting in the large bedroom where Enjolras and Combeferre stay. After leaving the basement with their dirty plates, Grantaire helps Bossuet and Joly do the dishes, and he has another beer with them. He sees Enjolras leave the basement and join the rest of his friends in the living room before leaving with Combeferre again. He catches Grantaire’s eye as they make their way downstairs, back to the basement, but says nothing.

Grantaire grabs all the necessary things — lube, condoms, a towel just in case — before he makes his way to the bedroom. He can hear everyone else chatting downstairs, Courfeyrac’s high-pitched excited noises as Bahorel tells him about ‘the time he almost got arrested because he punched a fireman.’

“You’re late.” Enjolras is on the bed, a bored expression on his face, when Grantaire lets himself in.

“I’m not late.”

Enjolras gives him a look and pats the space beside him without talking again. Leaving everything he brought on Combeferre’s bedside table, Grantaire climbs on the bed to join Enjolras.

“It took me a while to gather everything.”

“It’s just lube and condoms.” Enjolras rolls his eyes, pulling Grantaire into a deep kiss, which leaves Grantaire completely breathless afterwards.

“I brought a towel too.” He manages to say, hands already pushing Enjolras’s turtleneck up and off his head.  There’s still light marks here and there, but they’re fading. As much as he wants to mark Enjolras again, Grantaire holds himself this time and just gives light kisses to Enjolras’s chest and stomach, making his way down to his pants.

They only spend time on preparing Grantaire, but nothing else, since they have only an hour to spare. Grantaire expects it to be fast, to leave him breathless and with a racing heart, but it’s nothing like that. It’s slow, but not soft. It’s careful, but not tender. Grantaire hears every breath Enjolras takes alongside the voices coming from downstairs. With every thrust Enjolras takes, Grantaire can feel the bed rocking and making little noises. He wraps his arms around Enjolras, parting his legs wider.

Enjolras doesn’t kiss Grantaire as he fucks him but fixes him with a stare that’s impossible to look away from. His eyes are so very beautiful, and there are drops of sweat on his forehead, they look like they are about to drop on Grantaire any moment.

“Faster—”

“No.” Enjolras doesn’t even let him beg, going as slow as ever as Grantaire stares at him with a needy expression.

“Enjolras—”

He doesn’t answer this time, but Grantaire breaks himself off because Enjolras brushes the sweet spot inside him over and over to make him speechless, which works perfectly.

He begs for more when he collects himself, but Enjolras reminds him who is in control every time he tries.It’s so good he could kill someone to stop the time and live in this moment forever.

When he gets impatient, he tries to unwrap one of his arms and get ahold of himself, but Enjolras catches his arm and holds it above his head.

“Patience, R.” He sounds a little amused.

“I need it—”

“Hold it longer.”

“Apollo, I can’t—”

He whispers, though he doesn’t know why because he doesn’t think that anyone can hear him.

“You will,” Enjolras says, and he sounds so sure that Grantaire can do it, Grantaire has no choice but to believe him, nodding. He wants to close his eyes; it’s too much effort to keep his eyes open, but he is afraid that he won’t remember Enjolras’s face if he does.

It feels like forever before Enjolras finally takes him in his hand, firm, but unbelieveably gentle as he strokes Grantaire to his orgasm.

After they lay next to each other, just for a few moments, to catch their breath. Grantaire glances at Enjolras, who looks only slightly tired. The air in the room is heavy with their scent, mixed together and sweet. Grantaire doesn’t have much time to enjoy it because as soon as he’s back to himself, Enjolras climbs out of the bed.

It doesn’t come as a shock, since Enjolras has told him before that he’s not a cuddler.

“I’m going to shower first,” Enjolras says when their eyes meet, and Grantaire doesn’t argue. He knows that Enjolras will go back to the basement to join Combeferre and probably work all night.

He closes his eyes as Enjolras pulls on his clothes to make it to the bathroom and only listens when Enjolras leaves.

 

Grantaire opens his eyes to bright sunshine coming from the windows. He wants to curse Courfeyrac for leaving them open, then he realises that this is not his bed, nor his room, and it’s not Courfeyrac who is getting dressed on the other side of the bed.

“Ah, you are awake,” Combeferre says, grinning at him as he buttons up his shirt. Under his eyes are darker than ever, and puffy, so Grantaire imagines that he spent the night in the basement with Enjolras.

“What am I doing here?” Grantaire frowns, sitting up. He’s still naked, great. It’s not that he’s ashamed of Combeferre; he probably knows about him and Enjolras. But he’s mad that Enjolras didn’t wake him up and send him to his room. Then he wouldn’t have to have this conversation with Combeferre.

“Enjolras told me you fell asleep.”

“And he didn’t wake me up?” Grantaire huffs, even though he knows there’s nothing Combeferre can do about it.

“He said he didn’t want to disturb you.”

“But I basically stole your bed.”

“Believe me, I don’t want to sleep in it until the covers are changed.” Combeferre grins and winks, then puts on his belt.

When he tells him that breakfast is ready and leaves the room, Grantaire takes the covers along with his clothes and makes his way to the bathroom first.

Enjolras is sitting on his usual armchair when Grantaire joins the rest of them with a cup of strong coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs. He sits next to Enjolras.

“Morning,” Enjolras tells him without looking up from the newspaper he’s reading.

“You didn’t wake me up last night,” Grantaire accuses.

Enjolras looks up from his newspaper to see if anyone’s heard Grantaire, but everyone is either too sleepy or talking with someone. He glances at Grantaire with a warning look.

“Would you prefer I kick you out after I’m done with you?”

The sarcasm is Grantaire’s favorite toy, so he recognizes it easily. “I’d prefer if you woke me up after your shower, so I wouldn’t have to wake up to Combeferre getting dressed.”

“I didn’t know you cared much about people changing around you.” Enjolras smiles into his cup and Grantaire gives him a look.

“I wonder what you’d do if I’d done the same to you,” he says, his fork digging to the scrambled eggs as if they were Enjolras. He’s not really angry, just irritated.

“I would never fall asleep.”

“So that was my punishment for falling asleep?”

Enjolras is definitely grinning now, as he watches Grantaire.

“Please, if I wanted to punish you, I’m sure I could think of more interesting ways to do it.”

Grantaire curses himself for being turned on so easily, because his irritation melts away with his curiosity. He sips his coffee and watches Enjolras back. He doesn’t seem as tense as last night. Maybe they figured out what to do with Combeferre last night, Grantaire thinks. _Or maybe it was me._

“What do you think?” Enjolras asks, putting his newspaper down.

“Great Apollo putting down his newspaper for me, I’m so touched.” Grantaire grins at Enjolras, all teeth. Enjolras seems to enjoy this, or at least that’s what Grantaire wants to believe. He wonders how many of these moments they will have before Enjolras has to leave again. The conversation he had with Eponine yesterday comes back rushing to him.

“What is it?” Enjolras asks. This time his angelic voice is shadowed with slight concern. His worry must have shown on his face.

“Nothing,” Grantaire shrugs, eating his eggs. “Do you think we could meet in my room before you have to go back to the basement?”

*

The next few days pass by without Grantaire realising. Enjolras goes back to his all-business self after that morning, but Grantaire doesn’t mind at all. He can watch Enjolras any time he wants. He watcheshim read his papers, type on his computer, or argue with Courfeyrac. Whatever it is, he’s free to watch, because whenever he’s caught, Enjolras knows it’s because of lust. There’s nothing wrong in lusting over your…your what?

While Thenardier in town, it’s impossible for them to have a New Year’s party, so they decide to have a quiet evening with some alcohol to relax. Grantaire hasnever been more open to another idea.

He invites Eponine. She does not need convincing when Marius is there.

After the dinner, Grantaire sits by Enjolras’s legs, his head against his armchair. Combeferre sits on Grantaire’s usual chair, the one just opposite to Enjolras’s but Grantaire doesn’t mind it at all, because he can feel Enjolras’s knee pressed against the side of his head. There’s a bottle of wine beside him, half empty. He doesn’t bother with a glass when he sips from it every now and then. He even convinced Enjolras to drink one glass of wine, but it sits nearly full by his side.

“You shouldn’t waste it if you aren’t going to drink it,” Grantaire teases him, looking up from where he’s sitting. Enjolras rolls his eyes, as Grantaire expected, and sips his glass with a grimace.

“Happy?”

“Always nice to find out what other expressions you can make.”

Enjolras doesn’t bother to warn Grantaire this time. No one pays attention to them when they sit close to each other. Grantaire thinks it’s because everyone knows, somehow, that they…have something. He’s sure that it’s not Combeferre who told them, but no one is stupid. So they avoid looking at them or talking to them when they’re close. They all know how Enjolras is. Grantaire is grateful for it.

“Combeferre thinks everyone will pass out in the living room,” Enjolras says, casually. If it wasn’t for his fingers brushing Grantaire’s hair, Grantaire wouldn’t understand what he was saying.

Grantaire is surprised, both by the touch and by the open invitation. Yes, Enjolras was the one who started this, but after that it was Grantaire who soughthim. This is new.

“If I’m not one of the ones who passes out,” he promises, Enjolras’s hand still playing with his curls.

“Try not to be,” he says, not sounding any sweeter than his usual self.

Grantaire hums, not answering. He wraps his fingers around Enjolras’s ankle, just to be holding him, and continues to observe the others.

Courfeyrac is sitting and drinking with Jehan as usual, sometimes exchanging kisses with him. Joly and Bossuet are almost the same, except Bahorel keeps nudging them, sitting beside Feuilly. Grantaire can hear Bossuet huffing at Bahorel, “Fuck off!”

Marius is talking with Eponine in a corner, but this time she looks sad and angry. Marius doesn’t realise it. He doesn’t realise much.

Grantaire takes another sip from his bottle and feels Enjolras’s fingers pausing, only a little. For a second he thinks that the red leader will say something, but he doesn’t. Grantaire tries to remember the last time they talked about his drinking habit. If they talked after the night in the kitchen, he doesn’t recall it.

Their peace is broken by several knocks on the door. The change of atmosphere in the room is so sharp that it shocks Grantaire. No one looks sleepy or tipsy now, everyone is alert. Grantaire feels Enjolras’s hand stop and tense.

“I’ll see who is it,” Grantaire tells the others, and gets up. He’s glad it takes him more than half a bottle of wine to get him drunk.

It’s Thenardier who waits at the other side of the door when Grantaire opens it. He frowns. He can’tremember Thenardier ever coming to his house before. Eponine’s whole family hates him.

“Happy New Year’s!” Thenardier says merrily.

“It’s not yet midnight,” Grantaire answers, stiff. He folds his arms above his chest, looking at Thenardier. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to take Eponine home. Gavroche won’t sleep until she’s home.”

It’s a lie, they both know it. Eponine said that Gavroche was upset with her and Grantairebecause he wasn’t invited over. It would have beentoo suspicious, so Eponine left him behind. Gavroche wasn’t the kind of child who would sit and wait for his big sister to come and tuck him into bed.

“Right, I’ll let her know,” Grantaire says, trying tokeep Thenardier outside.

“Who else is here?” he asks when Grantaire turns to go inside, raising his eyebrows. Grantaire pauses.

“Just my friends. I’ll go get her.”

He doesn’t realise the mistake he has madeuntil he goes back to the living room to tell everyone it’s Thenardier. Because as soon as he opens his mouth, Thenardier is following him, his eyes searching the room.

“What are you doing here?” Eponine spits, standing up from where she was sitting, leaving a surprised Marius alone on the seat.

“Gavroche—”

“I have a phone,” Eponine snaps, getting her coat. She gives Grantaire an apologetic look as she walks past, going to her father.

“Won’t you introduce me to your friends?” Thenardier asks. The expression on his face is enough to make Grantaire’s stomach boil. He has a nasty smile on his face that Grantaire knows too well, like a frog who just caught a delicious fly.

“No,” Eponine answers, as Grantaire expects, and seizes his father by the arm.

Enjolras is on his feet as soon as they leave. He makes sure that Eponine and Thenardierare far enough away from the house that they won’thear him. Then he turns to Grantaire. “What were you thinking inviting him inside like that?”

“I didn’t invite him!” Grantaire frowns. “I just came here to get Eponine.”

“You couldn’t just shout?”

“It’s not my fault that he followed me inside—”

“He saw us, every one of us, he was counting—”

“There’s nothing I could do—”

“You could fucking keep him at the door—”

“Well, maybe the next time you should be the one—”

“There’s no point inarguing,” Combeferre said loudly.

Grantaire took a step back, his face burning, teeth gritted. Enjolras doesn’t look any different than him. He knows that it’s partly his fault, but doesn’t like that Enjolras jumped on him the second he could.

Enjolras sits back at his armchair, arms folded, brows furrowed.

“Now he knows us.”

“But there’s no picture of us, he can’t be sure it’s us,” Jehan says carefully.

“It doesn’t matter. There’s a picture of me. If you think he didn’t see it, you are st—”

“Hey,” Courfeyrac gives Enjolras a look. “It’s not his fault. Nor Grantaire’s.”

Enjolras looks like he disagrees but keeps his mouth shut.

“So what if he saw us? Can you imagine the calls police gets every day? If they believed everyone who told them that they saw a criminal—”

“There’s Grantaire.” Enjolras cuts off Joly.  “He’s probably been spotted with me. We have talked about this before.”

They have, about a hundred times.

“Yes, but I don’t think he’ll go around calling the police just because he saw a group of men having a party.”

“Joly is right,” Combeferre says. “Enjolras, he doesn’t really have any proof except Grantaire has been spotted with a blond man. And he probably doesn’t even know about it. He’s not police.”

Enjolras doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue either. He looks tired, Grantaire realises, and his anger slowly fades away. Enjolrasonly tries to protect his friends, Grantaire reminds himself.

“We just need to be more careful,” Bahorel says, getting up. “Make sure that Thenardier doesn’t come near us again.”

“One look is not enough to turn someone in,” Courfeyrac nods, looking at Enjolras. “It’s not as bad as it looks, Enjolras.”

Enjolras stands up, shaking his head. “Alright. We will be careful.” He walks past Grantaire, pulling his finger lightly as he exits the room. “Good night,” he calls as he climbs the stairs.

Grantaire follows.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for this very late chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who left comment&kudos or waited for this chapter to arrive.

The next months are a nightmare. It’s probably the worst and the best time Grantaire ever had in his life.

Enjolras makes everyone stay at home, so they have no meetings in the Musain, there are no walks on the beach, novisits to the local shops. It’s only Grantaire who goes out to buy what they need, and sometimes Jehan, since Thenardier saw him before. Other than that, it’s a total nightmare. They are inside the house all the time, working. Since they can’t go out, Enjolras makes Combeferre update their website every now and then, sometimes puttingup some serious information, sometimes just to make others sure that they are still free and alive.

Grantaire spends a lot of time by Enjolras’s side, casually irritating him or getting his punishments. It feels so different but also so familiar every time Enjolras takes him, kisses him, touches him. Whenever the mightly god is grumpy, or stressed, or angry, Grantaire makes him go up to his bedroom and makes him forget all about it. Enjolras agrees, but only to that. He doesn’t linger. He doesn’t stay in bed after they are done. He doesn’t cuddle. He always showers first and never sleeps in the same bed with Grantaire.

It’s perfectly obvious that he does it to remind Grantaire that they are not in a relationship, and that they won’t be. Grantaire chooses not to think about it. Whenever he finds himself thinking about how Enjolras lets Grantaire touch him whenever he wants but is still distant, he starts to wonder if this is all he wants, if he’s really okay with all this. But it’s not important, he tells himself, he’s going to leave soon.

Even though no one speaks of it in front of Grantaire, he can feel the change in the house. There’s no leaving their stuff in the living room now. No working outside the basement, no scribbling on a piece of paper, even. Every glass is washed immediately, everything they touch is somehow cleaned. There’s someone awake through the nights, watching outside for any sign of police or Thenardier. They start packing too. It’s not like they wrap up everything, but it seems to Grantaire that whenever he goes to the basement, something is missing. The cars are not parked at the front of the house anymore. They are at the back, ready to go. The painting Grantaire used to use to cover the basement’s entry is next to the door.

He tells himself that he is not going to think about it, that it makes him sad everytime he thinks about it and he won’t do that to himself, but it’s impossible. Everytime he notices something- a missing folder, a hat, a pair of shoes- his hearts sinks lower and lower.

At the end of February, Eponine brings them good news. Her parents went back to Paris, and that means they can leave the house again to breathe a little.

Enjolras doesn’t agree.

“They could be hiding,” he says. It’s late afternoon, and they are all in Enjolras and Combeferre’s bedroom because their heater is broken and no one is mad enough to insist on working in there while freezing. Well, except Enjolras, to Joly’s horror. “To lure us out of the house.”

“That’s ridiculous, Enjolras,” Grantaire rolls his eyes, sitting on the bed, head against where Enjolras likes to pin his arms up when they are alone in the room. “Even if we are all out of the house, and he’s there watching us, so what? He can’t catch any of us without the police, and the police station in this town learned not to pay attention to Thenardier a long time ago.”

“He’d see us-”

“But he already did,” Jehan cuts Enjolras off. “At New Year’s. All of us. It would be nothing new.”

“What about the other towns?” Enjolras tries again, looking very irritated now. “He could contact the police from other towns-”

“He had two months to do it, and he did nothing. I’m sure he wouldn’t go calling the police on us just because we left the house now. Plus, it would be easier to catch us in the house.” Grantaire mumbles, feeling Enjolras’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look back. Instead, he looks out of the window, where the sky is all orange and pink.

“There’s still a possibility.”

“We’ll watch for it, then,” Courfeyrac sits up, holding up a hand so no one talks over him, and looks directly at Enjolras. “We’ll go back to holding meetings in the Musain, but we won’t all be there. Everytime someone else can go and watch somewhere. Like, Bahorel at the train station. Marius could go and watch the road with a car, and someone else can stay home to pack if something happens.”

Enjolras frowns, thinking about it, but Grantaire doubts that he’ll say yes.

“I agree with Courfeyrac,” Combeferre says, finally, because he’d been awfully quiet.

“See? Combeferre agrees with me, my dear husband,” Courfeyrac grins, and Jehan looks like he’s trying to hold backlaughter, because Enjolras hates it when someone laughs while there’s a serious discussion. It would be a long list if Grantaire wrote down the things Enjolras hated, really.

“I don’t approve,” Enjolras says.

They put it into a vote and agree on Courfeyrac’s plan. Since Enjolras can’t convince anyone that it is a bad idea to leave the house, he looks grumpy, crossing his arms and scowling at no one at particular, like a child who’d been denied from ice cream.

For their first meeting, they leave Joly at home because he’s awfully fast when it comes to packing. Bossuet looks a little lost without him, but he doesn’t complain. Bahorel goes to the train station, and Feuilly to the town’s main road – because it looks like Enjolras still doesn’t trust Marius. “He could see a picture of the girl and forget to watch the road,” he says, irritated, and no one argues because it’s probably true.

“Oh,God, what happened? Is it the end of the world?”

That is Eponine’s reaction when the rest of Les Amis walk into the Musain, even though Grantaire already informed her that they were coming. Enjolras heads straight to the upper floor, and the others follow. Jehan and Courfeyrac stay behind to help her with the drinks.

The second time goes smoothly, too. There are no Thenardiers, nor police, nor any other threats. They sit in the upper room of the Musain and talk, not just about the Les Amis because they don’t have too much to work on at the moment. Enjolras talks about a new project that would be good for the summer, but they get distracted by the thought of summer instead of work. The warm breeze, the sun shining brightly, cursing the air because it’s too hot. It’s something they all miss.

The third time, Grantaire misses the meeting, since he’s the one who goes to the main road to watch, even after Enjolras tried to keep him from doing so.

“I don’t think we should let you watch somewhere when you are the second most likely to be caught among us,” Enjolras says, as always. He argues so often that Grantaire doesn’t even mind anymore. He’s practically against everything when there’s even a slightest chance of them getting caught. Which is ironic, considering what their small group does.

“I’m very, very surprised that you don’t agree with the idea, dear Apollo.” Grantaire mocks him, this time from the usual armchair he occupies. Enjolras gives him a look that says “be serious Grantaire, this is serious,” but Grantaire grins back at him instead. It also helps to see the bruise he gave Enjolras last night, barely visible under his collar.

“I just don’t understand why they are letting you go when they won’t let me.”

“We explained this before, Enjolras,” Combeferre says, sipping his coffee, head resting against Courfeyrac’s leg.

“I think Enjolras is a little jealous of me,” Grantaire continues. “Don’t you worry, mighty leader, I won’t try to take your place. It is rightfully yours.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Grantaire, that’s not what I’m afraidof,” Enjolras says. Grantaire has to laugh because Enjolras can’t even go along with the joking. Reaching out, he means to catch Enjolras’s arm and pull him closer, but realises what he’s doing halfway and drops his hand. Enjolras gives him a confused look.

It’s the fourth time whensomething fishy happens. They sit at the upper floor of the Musain. It’s already the part when the meeting breaks up and they are just chatting around, sipping their coffees or teas, in Jehan’s case. Grantaire sits next to Enjolras, their legs touching under the table. Enjolras gives him warning looks every now and then, but he doesn’t seem to mean it.

Courfeyrac is at the road this time, explaining why Jehan was textingso much during the meeting, and Bossuet is at the train station, with Bahorel at home. No one really wanted Bahorel to stay behind. He was Enjolras’s best protector, even though Enjolras complained like a teenager. He insisted that he can take care of himself. But Bahorel wanted to stay behind this time, exchanging a look with Enjolras. They let him, and Grantaire thought it might have something to do with their escape plan. But he didn’t ask.

With the beginning of March and the spring –even though it isn’t that warm yet – people start to come to town. So they were not exactly alone in the Musain now, but all other customers stayed downstairs. Probably because Eponine told them to. Not that it ever got so crowded in the Musain thatthe upperfloor was needed.

It surprises everyone when a man climbs up the stairs, carrying his coffee cup without spilling a drop. The conversation stops for a second. The man is probably over thirty years old, though fit and wearing stylish clothes. He almost looks like an author. Which is possible, because Grantaire knows some authors goes to quiet towns like this to work on their books, as Jehan explained. He is wearing a light blue jacket, and his boots look like they were bought just yesterday. He pays no attention to them, except lowering his head in a salute, and sits ata table on the other side of the room, unfolding the newspaper he holds under his arm.

Enjolras exchanges a look with Combeferre, whose hand goes immediately to his phone and types something. Grantaire thinks it’s probably a text to Courfeyrac, telling him to get ready. But he is only a stranger. Just because he comes upstairs doesn’t mean that he’s following them or knows who they are.

They linger for half an hour more, to avoid creatingany suspicions, then leave. Joly is practicallyshaking with worry once they get home, Bossuet and Courfeyrac already back.

“What is it?” Bossuet says as they enter the living room. There’sa delicious smell in the house, but even Grantaire doesn’t want to eat until Enjolras gets over his small crisis about a man sitting close to them. Mainly because it wouldmake Enjolras scowl at him.

“It could be nothing,” Combeferre says, looking at Enjolras. Joly goes to sit with Bossuet, curling up by his side.

“I told you someone would see us, I told you someone would come,” Enjolras says, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t even sit, his face closed. Grantaire can’t read him, can’t say how he’s feeling. Irritated? Angry? Worried?

“But you told me a man came upstairs and that’s all,” Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow, pulling Jehan on his lap and pressing a kiss on the back of his neck.

“He could be a spy—”

“Please, Enjolras,” Combeferre sighs. “I worry as much as you do – everyone does, but just because someone sat onthe same floor with us doesn’t mean he is a spy.”

It’s a relief, hearing Combeferre say that, because Combeferre doesn’t normally disagree with Enjolras. If he also thinks that there’s nothing to worry about, it means there isn’t. And that Grantaire is right, Enjolras is just overreacting.

“I’m not saying that there is nothing to worry about,” Combeferre says when Enjolras doesn’t answer. So, maybe Grantaire is wrong. “We will look into it, but it’s probably nothing.”

Instead of answering, Enjolras turns around and goes up to his room without saying anything. Combeferre catches Grantaire’s eye, and like that, he leaves the room to follow.

Enjolras is pacing around his bedroom when Grantaire walks in, his face still closed. He pays no attention to Grantaire while he locks the door and leans against it, not speaking. He wants to give Enjolras some time to collect himself. He’s probably here because he thinks no one will listen to him, and it’s true.

“They just never listen,” Enjolras bursts out. He stands in the middle of the room instead of pacing around, looking at Grantaire. His mouth is a thin line, his brows drawn together. Grantaire can see flames of anger in his eyes. Not too big, but still there.

“They listen to you all the time,” Grantaire answers, and his voice is low and careful. And honest. They listen to Enjolras. Even Grantaire himself listens to him-most of the time.

“Not when there’s something important,” Enjolras huffs. Heisn’t shouting, which is a good sign, though it’s still possible to hear anger in his voice. “This could be something important, Grantaire—”

“I know.”

“No you don’t,” Enjolras snaps, now irritated because Grantaire cut him off. “You think they’re right—you think I’m overreacting.”

“Well, you are overreacting—”

“I’m not! Do you think he just happened to come upstairs? Did you look at the ground floor when we were leaving? There was no one there, Grantaire.” There was actually a couple snogging by the window, but Grantaire doesn’t mention it. “Lots of free tables, and he comes upstairs. I don’t think that’s just because he likes the upper view.”

“Maybe he just wanted to get some privacy.” Grantaire offers, his tone still careful. This is nothing he’s dying to argue over. He just wants to calm Enjolras down, take the blow before rest of their friends –it still felt weird to call them his friends – and talk to Enjolras.

“Then why didn’t he leave after he saw us?”

That, Grantaire has no answers. But Enjolras looks calmer than before, after firing his questions. Grantaire pushes him more. “Maybe he thought it would look weird if he left then. It would be rude.”

“It’s not like he sat with us—”

“Yes, but he sat onthe other side of the room. Don’t you think he’d sit closer if it was his intention to spy on us?”

Enjolras grumbles, turning his back to Grantaire like a child. Grantaire walks closer to him, resting his hand on his shoulder. He feels Enjolras’s body going stiff under his hand. “I know you are worried,” Grantaire says, surprised that he manages to argue with Enjolras without any heat. He even manages to calm him down, because Enjolras relaxes against him when Grantaire slides his arm around his waist and holds him tight. “But don’t you think you should give the Musain another chance before leaving immediately? Maybe he’s no one.” He presses a kiss on Enjolras’s back, feeling the cool fabric under his lips. “He might not even be there next time.”

Enjolras doesn’t argue with him anymore. He lets Grantaire pull him to bed, take his clothes off, kiss him, feel him. This time Grantaire is in control. He doesn’t order around Enjolras like Enjolras does to him most of the time. But he stays on top, forcing Enjolras to let go and relax. And it works.

Everyone else is done with eating when they go back downstairs, so Grantaire goes straight to the kitchen to heat up leftovers, and to his surprise, Enjolras follows. Combeferre is doing the dishes with Courfeyrac in the kitchen when they walk in, and both of them look at Enjolras at the same time. It’s hard not to laugh.

“I have good news,” Combeferre says, running a plate under the water before handing it over to Courfeyrac, who takes it and wipes it dry. “I checked the newspapers, and there’s a guy who just looks like you in Berlin. The police tried to track him down. They think it’s you, obviously.”

This catches Enjolras’s attention. He can’t really stay mad atCombeferre and Courfeyrac, Grantaire notices. He takes out clean plates for them, not joining the conversation.

“All the way in Berlin? How do they think I managed to get there?” Enjolras scowls at the police’s stupidity.

“Well, it could be false news to trick us into stepping out of the shadows,” Combeferre suggests.

“But it could also be true. They couldn’t find us for months, so we could probablysneak out of the country without them noticing,” Courfeyrac says, raising his eyebrow at Enjolras.

“I don’t know, it could be a game, like Ferre says, but…why would they think that we would be that stupid?”

“Well, we went to the city at Christmas,” Courfeyrac laughs. “They probably don’t think that was wise.”

Grantaire sits down, handing Enjolras his own plate, and starts eating. He has no interest in arguing over this too, not that they would argue over this. He is not one to avoid arguing. But since Enjolras has so little time before he leaves, it seems a waste to argue when there areother things that they can do.

Sex, yes, but also getting to know each other better. If he told Enjolras this, he would think itwas dangerous, that it’s best they know little about each other. Because the police could get his hands on him and question him. Grantaire doesn’t think that Enjolras thinks he’ll tell anything to the police about them, he believes that at this point Enjolras trusts him, but not enough to drag him behind them. So he wants to know everthing he could about Enjolras. Because one day he will go, and Grantairewill find himself asking why he didn’t ask more, why he didn’t try to learn more about him. Like stupid things that normally have no value at all. He knows they will be the most valuable things in the whole world once Enjolras leaves. He doesn’t know if Enjolras can understand this.

He wants to paint him, too. He already did, more than once, but always from memory. He wants Enjolras to model for him but can’t be sure if he’ll say yes. Maybe he will think the police will use it as an evidence against him. Or that it will make things harder for Grantaire once they leave. He wants to ask, but he is afraid of the answer. What if he says, “Grantaire, this is getting out of hand, maybe we should stop?” He was the one who started it, but Grantaire still can’t be sure he won’t end it.

But he asks, a couple days later. It’s a Monday, and they have three days until the next meeting. No one has really left the house except Courfeyrac and Jehan –they probably had a date– and they said they hadn’tsee the man again. They are outside, smoking, when Grantaire asks. Enjolras looks surprised.

“But why do you want to paint me?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Have you seriously looked at the mirror recently, or like, at all?” Grantaire grins, and that earns him an eye roll from Enjolras. He feels more grounded, taking the cigarette from Enjolras to take a drag.

“Just because of my looks, then? But I’m not the only one who’s good looking. You could paint Jehan or Courfeyrac.”

“I want to paint you.”

“And I’m asking why.”

“Isn’t it obvious why I want to paint you?”

“Not to me—”

“Oh come on, Apollo,” Grantaire laughs, leaning his head against the wall. “It’s the same reason why I want to fuck you, instead of Jehan or Courfeyrac, or anyone else.”

Enjolras doesn’t even give him a warning look this time.

“Alright, you can paint me. But I can’t give you much time. Half an hour every day.”

Grantaire is so surprised that he forgets to argue with him, even though half an hour will just be him mixing his paints. But he will take it.

“When do you want to start?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm so sorry for this being late. Enjoy!

Enjolras doesn’t complain when Grantaire wakes him up the next morning, when the sun is coming up, to paint him. The reason why he doesn’t complain probably has more to do with the fresh coffee and a buttered slice of toast on the bedside table. Enjolras sits up, ignoring the toast and diving for the coffee. He glances at the empty spot beside him.

“Please tell me you didn’t kidnap Combeferre to paint me.”

Grantaire laughs, surprised.

“Are you making jokes Apollo? I would double-check to see if you’re really my Enjolras, if there was a possibility that there was someone else who looked like you.”

He grins, not even realising what he said until Enjolras stares him for too long. Shit.

“I mean—not my Enjolras. I know you are not mine, obviously.” He rolls his eyes at himself.

Enjolras only sips his coffee. “You can have the toast,” he says, completely ignoring the last two seconds of their conversation.

Right.

“Combeferre is in the kitchen, working.”

“Why is he working in the kitchen?”

“Probably because Joly and Bossuet are making out in the basement.”

Enjolras sighs, looking at the clock again. “Why everyone is up at this hour?”

He groans, then pauses for a second. Grantaire can see him panic even before it happens.

“Did something happen?” He frowns, sitting up straight and giving Grantaire one of his deadly looks. “Grantaire—”

“Alright, calm down, gods,” Grantaire huffs, climbing on the bed. “Nothing happened. I woke up Combeferre, who accidentally woke up Joly and Bossuet—because they stayed up last night.”

Enjolras gives him another glare, but Grantaire sits on his lap.

“Don’t—I probably have morning breath,” he mumbles when Grantaire tries to kiss him.

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

“I already brushed my teeth.”

“No, I mean,I mind that I have—”

Grantaire shuts him up with a kiss, which Enjolras gives into, putting his hands on his hips.

“I thought you were just going to paint me.”

“It’s not fair that your brain is able to form full sentences and argue with me at this hour, Enjolras.”

“So that was your plan? My brain wouldn’t be able to form sentences, so you could make out with me?”

“Yes, that was my great evil plan. Well done for figuring it out.”

Enjolras doesn’t roll his eyes this time, letting Grantaire give him another kiss, longer this time.

“I think my brain has a problem forming words when you kiss me like that, not when I’m up early.”

It’s not something Grantaire ever thought Enjolras could say, so he thinks he has every right to be surprised. Going to sleep last night—all right, he didn’t actually sleep, he just laid in bed, thinking about how he needed to wake Enjolras up in a few hours, but still, he only thought Enjolras would curse him for waking up early and be grumpy all morning. Not…not say things that make Grantaire’s heart want to stop beating because it was the most perfect time to end his life.

He is glad when Enjolras pulls him down for another kiss, because he has no idea how to respond to that.

Twenty minutes later, when Grantaire has a new bruise on his neck and Enjolras’s coffee is already cold on the bedside table, they finally leave the bed.

He wants to paint Enjolras in the morning, when the sun is in its most beautiful state, because that’s the only time its light is worth touching his Apollo’s skin.

Not _his_ Apollo.

Dammit.

“Only half an hour,” Enjolras reminds him, sitting on the chair Grantaire pulled in front of the window.

“It might be more than half an hour.”

“Grantaire. I need to work.”

“You’ll have time for work, no one will be up at this hour.”

“We also need to prepare for this week’s meeting.”

“We have time.”

“Grantaire—”

“Oh, shut up, please? I don’t want you frowning when I paint you. You’ll ruin it.”

“What? You think me frowning will ruin your painting?” Enjolras raises an eyebrow at that, crossing his arms even though Grantaire told him not to move.

He steps around his blank canvas to get to Enjolras, pulling his hands down. “I don’t want you to frown in this painting. I have twenty frowning Apollo paintings.”

“Why do you always paint me frowning?” Enjolras lets Grantaire pull his hands down, tipping his head up and to the side.

“Because I always paint you from memory, and you always frown, ” Grantaire runs his thumb on Enjolras’s cheek, down to his lips, which are a little puffy from all the kissing.

“I don’t—”

“Don’t even argue about that.”

To his surprise, Enjolras doesn’t.

“Are you cold?” Grantaire asks. He doesn’t want Enjolras to get sick, but he is not going to ruin his beauty by putting clothes on him.

“No,” Enjolras shrugs and lets Grantaire fix his posture again.

“Alright, let me know when you are.”

Grantaire goes back behind the canvas. Enjolras looks so beautiful it’s almost painful. His head is tipped back, eyes closed, golden locks falling on his shoulders. The newborn sun falls on his hair and his skin, making him shine, making him look even more beautiful than he already is, which is almost impossible. Grantaire wants to paint him, but he also wants to stay there and watch him for hours and cry because he’s fucking beautiful.

He starts sketching on the canvas, keeping his lines loose and light, eyes almost never leaving Enjolras.

He knows these moments will torment him in a few months, maybe weeks, when Enjolras is gone. It’s not good to think about him leaving. So he doesn’t.

It takes them more than half an hour. Enjolras doesn’t complain. When they stop, though, Grantaire is not near finished. He knows Enjolras won’t spare him time tomorrow, with the preparations for  the meeting and everything, but Grantaire thinks he can touch up the painting without Enjolras.

“Are you cold now?” Grantaire asks, because the tip of Enjolras’s nose is red. Even though it looks adorable, he knows Joly will kill them both if Grantaire causes Enjolras to get sick. Enjolras will probably help Joly kill Grantaire if he gets sick and fall behind on work.

“A little,” Enjolras nods. And Grantaire, because he’s an idiot and doesn’t think what he’s doing half of the time, takes his green hoodie off and puts it on Enjolras. He smudges some paint on his cheek while doing it.

Seeing Enjolras in his hoodie with paint smudged on his cheek sends shivers down his spine. He considers throwing the canvas away and starting another painting just to capture Enjolras like this but before he can offer it, he sees the look on Enjolras’s face and snaps back into reality.

Enjolras looks scared, which is not a look Grantaire sees on him often. His eyes are wide and lips parted, he looks like he can’t decide if he wants to snap at Grantaire for making him wear his hoodie or kiss him.

“You don’t have to wear it—I only—because you are cold—”

“I’ll wear it.”

“Enjolras—”

“I said I’ll wear it.” Enjolras gives him a look, which usually means he wants Grantaire to shut up, and puts his hands in the pockets of the hoodie. “It’s warm.”

“Right.”

_His_ hoodie. On Enjolras.

They find Bossuet in the kitchen when they go downstairs, who has no right to make fun of Enjolras wearing Grantaire’s hoodie because he looks like he spent days fooling around with Joly and knows it.

But Courfeyrac has no shame, obviously. He whistles the moment he sees Enjolras, who’s biting on a toast.

“Shut up.” Enjolras rolls his eyes at Courfeyrac.

“What are you wearing, Enjolras? I love it.”

“Courfeyrac—”

“Is it new? You must tell me where you bought it, I’ll get myself one.”

“Darling, Enjolras will probably kill you if you keep this up,” Jehan says, walking in the kitchen, giving Courfeyrac a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, Jehan, I don’t want Enjolras to add murder to his lovely criminal history.”

“How do you know I don’t already have it in my history?” Enjolras snaps at Grantaire, who just throws an arm around his shoulders with a grin. Grantaire looks at ease, but he never touches Enjolras while others are around, so his heart goes a little crazy. He’s just glad Enjolras doesn’t push him off.

“He doesn’t,” says Courfeyrac, accepting a mug from Jehan—probably tea. “But I can’t say the same about Combeferre.”

“What can’t you say about me?” Combeferre asks, bringing a tray full of empty mugs into the kitchen. Grantaire doesn’t doubt they are all Combeferre’s.

“That you have a nice bum.”

“I have a really nice bum, thank you very much Courf.”

Almost everyone bursts out laughing except Enjolras and Combeferre. But when Grantaire glances at Enjolras, he sees a smile on his lips, so Grantaire probably imagined that he was looking at him moments ago.

It’s such a nice, easy morning. Grantaire hopes the rest of the day will go like that too.

*

He doesn’t see Enjolras much for the rest of the day. Or the day after. He doesn’t wake Enjolras up to paint him in the morning because he knows he stayed up all night working. He knows Combeferre was with him, also Courfeyrac and Bahorel. It smells so much like an escape plan that Grantaire carefully avoids going to the basement for two days, even though he is dying to know what they are planning.

When it’s the day of their meeting, though, he wakes Combeferre up, who leaves the room without questioning Grantaire. He slides under the covers next to Enjolras. The bed is warm, but he presses close to Enjolras anyway, nuzzling against his arm. His stomach fills with butterflies when he notices Enjolras is sleeping in the hoodie Grantaire gave him two days ago. Well, not really gave him, but...

“Hey,” Grantaire whispers, pulling on one of his curls gently.

Enjolras grumbles.

“You are late for the meeting,”

“Fuck off.”

Grantaire laughs and presses a kiss on his cheek. “Fine, you are not late for the meeting.”

“Where’s Ferre?”

“Killed him.”

He wants to laugh when Enjolras opens his eyes just to give him one of his deadly looks. Grantaire kisses him instead. Enjolras doesn’t complain about the morning breath this time.

“What? You want to paint?” He asks with a yawn, stretching. Grantaire sees his opportunity and slides closer, putting his head on Enjolras’s shoulder.

“No.”

“What, then?”

“I was cold.”

“So you snuck into my bed?”

“Well, it’s not really sneaking. I had to wake Combeferre up and send him away, after all.”

Grantaire is surprised when Enjolras stops stretching and puts his arm around him, but he certainly does not complain.

“Why no painting?”

“You’re tired.”

“You don’t have to paint my eye bags.”

Grantaire laughs, pushing some of his hair back so he could kiss his forehead too. It feels more intimate than fucking or sneaking in his bed.

Enjolras looks at him when he pulls back, but that’s all he does. Grantaire sighs, knowing that he’s stepped over the lines they so carefully drew.

“I know,” He says, when Enjolras opens his mouth. He talks anyway.

“You’ll get hurt—” 

“I said I know, Enjolras.”

Enjolras is silent for a moment. Grantaire thinks he won’t say anything else. He doesn’t need Enjolras telling him he’ll get hurt because he doesn’t have to wait to get hurt. It already does hurt like hell, knowing that Enjolras will leave and he’ll be more fucked up than ever.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says gently and Grantaire ignores looking into his eyes. He doesn’t want to listen, even though Enjolras is talking gently. _Especially_ when Enjolras is talking gently. It’s an unfamiliar ground for him, shaky, and he doesn’t know when he’ll fall.

Enjolras puts his hand on Grantaire’s cheek and tips his head up, looking into his eyes.

“We should stop before it’s too late.”

That’s exactly what Grantaire doesn’t want to hear.

“Stop what, Apollo? Last time I looked, we were just fucking.” The words hurt him more than they do Enjolras, he knows, because he doubts Enjolras is buying his lie.

“We should stop that. And other things.”

“No, we shouldn’t.”

“It’s not certain when we will leave. I can’t give you a time—”

“Never asked for one.”

“Grantaire.” Enjolras sounds frustrated.

“I’m not giving up the last moments with you just because you might leave tomorrow, Enjolras.”

“It’s not only you who’ll get hurt,” he snaps. Grantaire frowns, looking at him carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“I…You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Grantaire, don’t play dumb with me.”

“You can’t even say it, can you?”

“I don’t want to say it.”

“Why?”

“Grantaire—” 

“Because you’ll leave, that’s it? You know you can always take me with you.”

“No. No I can’t.”

“Enjolras—”

“No.”

Grantaire grits his teeth, sitting up. He pushes the covers back, but Enjolras grabs his arm before he can leave the bed. He pulls Grantaire backand, because Grantaire is a needy for Enjolras, he lets him.

Enjolras doesn’t talk, apologise, or soothe him. He simply kisses him, the only thing he offered Grantaire from the beginning, and Grantaire finds himself agreeing to his terms once again.

Grantaire slides his hands in Enjolras’s soft curls, still warm from sleep. Enjolras sighs into the kiss and parts his lips even more, letting Grantaire slide his tongue in, explore him without any complaints.

He doesn’t let Grantaire push the hoodie off him, though.

“Can’t.”

“We have time.”

“Grantaire—”

“Come on,” Grantaire presses a kiss on Enjolras’s neck, all the way up to his ear. “A quickie?”

Enjolras laughs, to Grantaire’s surprise, but pulls back. “Later.”

With that, he’s gone, most likely to have his morning shower, and Grantaire sinks back to the bed, watching the door close after Enjolras.

*

Grantaire walks beside Enjolras as they leave the house to meet the others in the Musain. Because Enjolras doesn’t want Combeferre to stay home, Jehan takes his place and Marius goes to the train station. Enjolras is not pleased with that, but they manage to keep him happy enough by sending Joly to watch the main road. He’s a very bad driver but Combeferre argues that it’s better than sending Bahorel, their best in combat, incase anything happens in the meeting.

Enjolras also tries to make Grantaire stay home, and Grantaire doesn’t even bother arguing with him. Which is half the reason why Enjolras is sulking during their walk.

“You’re pouting,” Grantaire points out, raising an eyebrow at Enjolras.

“I don’t pout,” Enjolras snaps.

“Sure, Apollo? Because this is definitely a pout.” He taps on Enjolras’s bottom lip with his finger.

“Take that away before I bite your finger off, Grantaire.”

Grantaire grins and obeys, putting his finger safely away from Enjolras’s mouth.

“Come on, I thought I made it obvious long ago that I’m not going to sell your precious information to the police.”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it, then, my lovely paranoid lov—leader.”

There is a minute of silence, during which Grantaire keeps his gaze firmly on the road ahead, aware of Enjolras’s burning gaze.

“It’s…” Enjolras clears his throat, looking away from Grantaire. “If that man comes back, and if he is indeed a spy, it’s not good for you to be seen with us.”

“Don’t you think it’s already too late for that?” Grantaire mumbles, tired of having the same conversations over and over again.

“I only want—”

“I know.” He turns to hold Enjolras’s gaze for a second, wondering if Enjolras would let him if he put his hand on his cheek, cupping his face, bringing it down for a kiss.

“You forget easily that it’s my choice to be here, to help you, and, you know, if it’s dangerous then let it be dangerous.”

“Grantaire…”

“Hush. I might not sound like one most of the time, but I am a grown man.”

“What happens when we—”

“We don’t talk about that.”

“I’m not letting you ruin your life just because—”

“Because of you. And it’s the best reason to ruin my life.”

Grantaire doesn’t look at Enjolras, nor does he speak, as they continue their walk. He’s so used to them getting into arguments now that he doesn’t even get nervous when silence stretches between them. He glances at Enjolras when their hands brush against each other accidently, and when he’s about to hide his hand in his pocket, Enjolras slides their hands together, fingers closing around Grantaire’s.

Grantaire blinks but doesn’t pull back, curling his own fingers around Enjolras’s as they finish their walk in complete silence.

Eponine greets Grantaire with a look that obliterates all the fuzzy feelings Grantaire has from holding Enjolras’s hand. Enjolras is on his phone, oblivious to the look Eponine gives him, so Eponine quickly fixes him up with a cup of coffee and sends him upstairs to join Combeferre and Bossuet.

“What?” Grantaire walks close to Eponine, frowning.

“First, were you holding hands?” Eponine raises an eyebrow, and Grantaire’s ears go pink.

“Shut it, what?”

“Fine. Well, your guy has been coming here every day for a week.”

“Shit.”

“I know,” Eponine takes a mug, filling it with coffee for Grantaire. “Are you going to tell them?”

“Well, I have to. It might be dangerous. What is he doing when he’s here?”

“I don’t know much, he stays upstairs, mostly. But when I see him he reads stuff. Newspaper, books.”

Grantaire accepts the mug from Eponine, chewing on his bottom lip. “Enjolras won’t like it.”

“You mean your boyfriend.”

“Fuck off, Ponine.” Grantaire rolls his eyes at her but can’t hide the smile on his face, even though it lasts only a second.

Enjolras definitely won’t let them use the Musain now. He freaked out when they saw the guy once, so knowing he is here basically every day won’tmake things easier.

“I’ll see what happens.” Grantaire huffs, sipping his coffee as he makes his way upstairs.

Enjolras is already looking at Combeferre’s laptop screen, mumbling things as Combeferre’s fingers dance on the keyboard. Grantaire knows he should tell them right away, but Enjolras would probably cancel the meeting before it even starts, and everyone needs to breathe for a second or two.

“What took you so long?” Enjolras asks, looking up from the screen for a moment. Grantaire pushes the guilt back in his head, focusing on the warmth settled in his chest from when Enjolras held his hand minutes ago.

“Nothing.”

Enjolras stares at him a moment too long, then his eyes are on the screen again. Grantaire notices Combeferre’s eyes on him, which he ignores stubbornly.

They start when people finish arriving. Grantaire, for once, stops watching Enjolras and focuses on the subject on hand. It’s about the list Combeferre posted last night: places Les Amis will send school supplies to once they are safe, meaning when they leave.

“Do we have any feedback?” Enjolras asks, his notepad open in front of him, pen at his hand. He probably knows all the feedback they got already. It’s obvious it’s only a question to keep the meeting going.

“Yes, plenty,” Combeferre nods, turning his laptop screen so everyone can see. “Our Twitter account is very busy, as well as our email. Apparently police is already on it, too. They are sending their men to check out the places we’ve listed.”

Grantaire snorts. “Do they really think you are going to go and hide in one of the places you just put on your website?”

Combeferre shrugs, though a smile is pulling at his lips.

“What, you will?”

“We are not telling you where we are going to hide.”

Grantaire’s shoulders tense, and his gaze shifts to Enjolras. “Why?”

“Because Enjolras forbid us to do so.” Combeferre is the one who answers.

Grantaire raises one eyebrow at Enjolras.

“I did.” Enjolras confirms, his voice tight.

“Why?”

“You know why, Grantaire. We are over this.”

“Are we? I wasn’t aware.” Grantaire crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on Enjolras, which probably pisses him off a little that he acts like a child, but he finds that he doesn’t really care.

But Enjolras meets his gaze without any hint of anger, which is unsettling. “Yes.”

“I already made it obvious—”

“That we can trust you, yes, Grantaire, we know. But that’s not the reason, and I don’t want to argue about it again when we already have a million times. Let’s get back to the meeting, shall we?”

Grantaire is about to open his mouth to object—though he doesn’t really know why. A part of him, a very reckless and childish part of him, wants to make things harder for Enjolras, like that will convince him to take Grantaire with him when they leave. But he doesn’t get to object, because Enjolras breaks their gaze and fixes on something behind Grantaire.

He doesn’t have to turn around to figure out that the _something_ is the guy from last week.

Enjolras changes his posture—his shoulders tensed, his back straight. He glances at Combeferre, who shuts down his laptop to hide the precious information they have on the screen.

“Bahorel,” Enjolras mumbles so softly that it’s very hard to hear him, but somehow Bahorel does, and he’s on his feet instantly.

“Alright, you are all getting sleepy. Who wants more coffee?” He grins, taking his wallet from his coat. Grantaire turns in his chair to see what the hell he’s doing. He almost brushes his shoulder against the man, who’s now setting his tray on the table they last saw him. Grantaire notices the look he gives Bahorel just before their friend disappears down to the stairs, eyes travelling from head to toe, sizing him up.

Knowing that there’s no way Bahorel would leave them alone in any case other than Enjolras’s direct order, Grantaire assumesthis had been discussed before they even left the house. It’s a show-off, that much is obvious. Bahorel is taller and larger than any person Grantire met, and this guy is no exception.

Combeferre turns to Bossuet, making small talk so they wouldn’t all just sit and stare.

Someone brushes his ankle against his, making Grantaire jump slightly. When he looks up he notices that someone is Enjolras. He gives him a puzzled look.

“Don’t turn around,” Enjolras mumbles, hiding his lips behind his cup.

“Why?”

“Don’t question me,” Enjolras sighs, lowering the cup. He leans in. “Be sure you hide your face from him as best as you can.”

“Right… okay.”

“It’s important.”

“What’s not important with you, my dear Apollo?”

“Don’t—”

“Would you prefer if I use your rea—”

There’s a kick from under the table that makes him shut up.

He watches Enjolras as he looks up, his head slightly angled back. He’s not looking at Grantaire, but someone behind him.

“Excuse me, hello, am I interrupting?” The voice is extremely polite and calculated. Grantaire tries to be very, very still, even though Enjolras is obviously in much worse trouble than him. He’s the leader of this group, after all, not Grantaire.

“Not at all.” Enjolras smiles at the man, does it so relaxed that Grantaire is glad he’s not facing the man, because he can’t help but raise one eyebrow.

“I won’t take too much of your time,” he continues, though Grantaire notices how he’s carrying the conversation. With long sentences, pauses, like he’s buying himself time to inspect them all. “I was talking with the girl downstairs, Eponine, I believe? She said you come here often so I thought you could maybe give me a few tips about the town. Where to eat, stuff like that.”

Enjolras glances at Grantaire, shorter than a heartbeat, probably wondering if Eponine might have done such thing. It’s impossible, the man is obviously lying but Grantaire doesn’t risk giving something away, so he keeps his head down, says nothing.

“I’m afraid we can’t help you about that,” Enjolras talks again, with that fake politeness and warmth. “We’re not from this town. In fact, we’ve been here only for a few weeks.”

“Surely enough time to take a look around?”

“There’s a lovely bookshop around here, though which street I have no idea. I simply found it when I got lost, but that’s about it, really.”

“I see.” There’s a pause, in which Enjolras doesn’t even blink, it’s awfully scary. “Thank you very much.”

*

It’s a miracle that Enjolras doesn’t tell them all“I told you so” during their time in the Musain, nor the walk to home, which was a pain in the ass because they practically had to walk through the whole town.

“If he knows where we are hanging out, he probably knows where we live, too.” Bossuet mentions once, but with a look from Enjolras he’s silent again. Once they are practically locked up in the house again, Enjolras makes a call, and Joly shows up with Marius beside him, in less than ten minutes. They don’t bother going into the basement this time and by the time Jehan brings tea for everyone, they’re all sitting down except Enjolras.

Courfeyrac catches Grantaire’s eyes across the room, huffing slightly. Jehan sits beside him, not on him, for once. Feuilly sits with his phone in hand, typing something silently in a corner. Even Combeferre looks troubled, and his laptop is still not open, which is not a good sign at all.

“Allright, we leave first thing tomorrow.” Enjolras says after what feels like a lifetime. And once he stops talking, Grantaire feels like that lifetime has already come to an end. He feels like something fell on his chest, so big that there’s no room for him to breathe.

“We can’t leave first thing tomorrow,” Courfeyrac argues immediately.

“I think it’s time we follow to my plans for once,” Enjolras counters with an icy tone.

“It’s not about whose plan we follow,” Courfeyrac says, crossing his arms. “We already talked about this, we can’t leave at once or he’ll know who we are.”

“He already knows who we are, can’t you figure that out?”

“What about Grantaire? We leave now, and he’ll be the one who they blame.”

“We’ll follow the plan—”

“That plan depends on Grantaire being safe here,” Combeferre cuts Enjolrasoff, taking his glasses off to pinch his nose.

Grantaire can’t do anything but stay there and listen, ears buzzing, his breathing heavy. And he’s hoping that the others will somehow convince Enjolras again, convince him to stay or—

“We’ll follow plan B, then,” Enjolras says, tired, his shoulders slumped down. He leans against the wall for support. “Grantaire is coming with us.”


End file.
